Social Standing
by sponsormusings
Summary: In a time when your social standing can dictate who you should love, a housemaid and the son of a Duke can't help but be drawn to each other. An Everlark AU, set in England in the 1880s.
1. Chapter 1

**This first chapter was originally submitted as a one-shot for Prompts in Panem in October. There have been amendments to the original submission, and this new version loaded. However the original can still be found on the Prompts in Panem tumblr page.**

* * *

Katniss Everdeen clutched the small bag in her hands, worrying the strap between her fingers. The meagre possessions she had brought with her – all she owned in the world - barely filled half of it. The nerves that had threatened to overwhelm her all morning were starting to rise, but she breathed deeply, trying to overcome them. The carriage rocked and bumped its way down the drive, drawing her closer and closer to where she would soon be employed. She could see the manor house now, could see how large it was, how magnificent it was. She was conscious not to let her admiration show too clearly.

Chatsworth Manor was one of the most elegant homes in all of Great Britain, and somehow she had managed to secure a position as a housemaid. She knew it was due, in part, to the friendship her mother had had as a young girl with the present housekeeper, Ms Trinket. But she was also aware that the lady of the house, Duchess Mary, was a woman who didn't give anyone a second chance. She knew that Ms Trinket must have thought her suitable enough to fill the role over and above the connection between their families. She'd heard that the last housemaid had gotten in 'trouble' after an interlude with one of the young butlers, but she knew she didn't have to concern herself with a situation such as that.

Katniss had no intention of marrying and having children, and bringing them into a world where it seemed every day became bleaker for those who were poor. Love, while sweet in the beginning, had done nothing but lead to heartbreak for the Everdeens. She'd seen the sweetness in her parents, then the heartbreak in her mother as she spiralled into depression after the death of her husband, that neither Katniss nor her sister Primrose could retrieve her from. She looked out the carriage window again, and sighed.

Being poor was something these people obviously had never had to worry about before, nor were likely to in the near future.

The carriage pulled into the circular drive, stopping not at the main entrance, but a small door around to the west side of the building. Katniss waited until it had come to a complete stop before starting to rise. Her hand reached towards the latch, but the carriage driver beat her to it, swinging the door open wider.

"Miss," he greeted as she stepped down. She nodded her head at him, softly whispering her thanks. He wasn't that much older than her, with dark brown hair and serious eyes, an air of hostility around him. She wondered if it was aimed towards her or just his situation in general.

Seeing as she had never met him before, she assumed the latter was correct.

She looked up to see Ms Trinket standing at the entrance, and was slightly surprised at the person before her. She wasn't the stately, motherly figure she'd expected, dressed in simple garb. While yes, she wore a staid housekeeper uniform – white apron over black dress – her figure was slim, her face was painted with rouge and lipstick and her strawberry blonde hair was pulled up and elaborately coiffed.

She began to wonder if the stories she had heard of Duchess Mary were wrong. If she allowed her housekeeper to dress like this, then she couldn't be all that unwelcoming.

"Welcome to Chatsworth, Miss Everdeen," she greeted, her hand reaching towards Katniss gracefully. Katniss shook it, surprised by the action. People rarely extended their hand to her. Ms Trinket must have noted her hesitation.

"Manners are important to me, Miss Everdeen, no matter your station. I expect you to follow suit," she told her firmly.

"Yes, ma'am," Katniss replied. It wouldn't do her any good to let Ms Trinket know that usually the only type of manners she followed was to wash her hands.

Ms Trinket dipped her head towards the driver, then led Katniss inside.

"Now, Miss Everdeen, this is the staff entrance. You're not to use any of the main entrances, nor the primary hallways. You'll find the staff quarters and hallways separate to those of the family of the house. Our primary aim, along with ensuring the household runs smoothly, is to remain essentially invisible to our employers. Only myself, Haymitch the butler and the personal maids to the family are to interact with them. Do you understand?" Ms Trinket asked, guiding Katniss down a small hallway, indicating to the staff kitchen as they passed it.

"Yes, ma'am." Katniss didn't care either way – the only reason she was here was to ensure she could earn a suitable wage to help her mother and Primrose.

"Good. Now, as discussed, you will be required to work most days, with one weekend a month to do so as you wish. You will share duties with Johanna and Margaret, and will ensure that there is at least one of you available at all times. Your work day starts from 6am and concludes at 6pm. You may, on occasion, be requested to assist with evening events the Duke and Duchess host, but primarily your evenings are your own. The household tasks should all be completed by then, regardless." Ms Trinket spoke a mile a minute, her accent surprisingly regal for someone of her station. Katniss hurried to keep pace with her. They turned a corner, until they were in a small corridor lined with doors.

"Now these are the female staff quarters. Your room is this first one here on the left. The quarters for the male staff are at the opposite end of the corridor, to help discourage fraternising," her lip firmed into a thin line, and Katniss knew the rumours of the last housemaid were true. "My quarters are in behind the kitchen. If you need my assistance, that's where you will find me. Now, please retire to your quarters – I know it has been a long ride from your home. Supper will be available for the staff from promptly 7pm to 8pm. If you are late, there is no meal. I shall see you there." With a polite nod of her head, Ms Trinket left Katniss alone in the cool, empty hallway.

* * *

It was 7.02pm when Katniss ventured from her room and headed in the direction of the kitchen. She was exhausted but also restless from being cooped up in the carriage, and then her room. Katniss preferred, more than anything, to be outside, in the forest, and hated the fact that this position would do nothing but prevent her from being alive outside in the open air. Part of her wished she'd been able to secure a position as a gardener – she had a fairly decent knowledge of plants from her mother - and at least that meant she could remain outside.

Unfortunately it had been a butler and a housemaid dismissed not a gardener and housemaid. And they wouldn't let a woman hold that type of position regardless.

She stepped into the kitchen to see a number of the household staff already there. The conversation lulled for a moment as everyone looked her over, then went back to their meals. Ms Trinket cleared her throat.

"Everyone, this is Katniss. She has replaced Glimmer as the new housemaid. Please ensure you take the time to make her feel welcomed." Katniss saw two young men seated at the end of the long sturdy wooden table nudge each other and wiggle their eyebrows. Internally, she sighed. It seemed the men – no, boys, she rectified – here were no more gentlemanly than they were at home.

She surveyed the room again, and walked to the fireplace, where a black pot was simmering fragrantly. A large portly woman was stirring it, and smiled at her warmly.

"Hello, me love. Care for some stew?"

"Yes, please." She reached for the dish the older woman held out to her, sighing at the warmth that seeped into her fingers from the heat of the bowl. She hadn't even realised until now that they were cold.

"Now, young miss, the name is Sae, and you can come to me at any time, you hear?" Katniss smiled, nodded and turned back to the table. There was a spare seat at the end, next to a girl about her age with golden blonde hair tied back in a simple bun. Katniss slid in and quickly began eating. It was warm and tasty, filled with root vegetables and a meat that was tender and soft.

Most of the staff chatted and laughed over their meal, but Katniss remained quiet, along with the girl beside her. Katniss wasn't one for general conversation, so if this girl felt the same, she was sure they would get along just fine.

Suddenly a whirlwind entered the room, a bundle of energy and chatter.

"Bloody hell, Sae, give me a bowl of that stew. Starving to death over here!" The skinny angular girl slung an arm over the cooks shoulder, who laughed heartily. She pushed a bowl into the girl's hands, and brushed her away towards the table. The minute the girl turned she caught sight of Katniss, and a grin settled over her face. She sat down heavily - quite unlady-like - on the other side of the table, shoved a spoonful of stew into her mouth, and stared at Katniss unashamedly. Katniss couldn't help but stare back. The girl had sharp, pointed features, and short, chin length hair. What was most surprising was that it was ramrod straight, not a curl in sight, as was so fashionable at the moment for women with shorter hair.

"Who are you then?" the girl mumbled around a mouthful of food. Ms Trinket called out an admonishment from across the room, but she just rolled her eyes. She continued to stare at Katniss intently.

"My name is Katniss. I'm the new housemaid."

"You don't say," the girl grinned. "Well, I'm Johanna, beside you is Madge," she rolled her eyes again as Ms Trinket called out 'Margaret, Johanna!', "And we're the other junior housemaids. Madge there will keep you on the straight and narrow. Me, on the other hand, will take great delight in trying to turn you into a rascal like me." Everyone around the table laughed, and Katniss was surprised. She'd never encountered such chatty, carefree people before. Particularly those in roles of servitude.

"Nice to meet you, Johanna," she replied politely. The girl laughed.

"I wouldn't be so sure of that." Johanna hunkered back down to finish her stew, not looking up from her bowl until it was finished. A silence fell over the room, save for the scraping of spoons on bowls and the occasional squeak of a chair. A faint scuffling of boots caught Katniss' attention, and she looked up to see the carriage driver walk in. He surveyed the room, his eyes fleetingly resting on her, before shifting to Johanna. Katniss saw the look they exchanged, full of heat and fire and promises for later, and she flushed. It seemed the previous housemaids' predicament wasn't stopping these two.

She excused herself and began to head back to her room.

"Katniss, wait!" a voice called from behind her. She turned to see Madge scurrying out of the room, a shy smile on her face. "I was done as well; I thought we could walk back to our rooms together." Katniss shrugged, and the two walked in silence back to their quarters. It wasn't uncomfortable or awkward – in fact it was quite the opposite. Madge was definitely more her type of person than whirlwind Johanna. They finally reached their rooms – Katniss found that Madge's was directly opposite hers – and smiled hesitantly at each other.

"Well, good night Katniss. Welcome to Chatsworth House. I'd advise you to sleep well, because you'll need it. As Ms Trinket is known to say 'Tomorrow is going to be a big, big, big day'." She opened her door, stepped inside and closed it softly behind her. Katniss looked at the closed door for a moment before stepping into her own room. She lay down on the bed, not even bothering to undress, and stared at the ceiling.

Her first official day of work. It was going to be a big, big day indeed.

* * *

She'd been at Chatsworth for a full month the first time she saw him.

She had settled into a comfortable routine, getting to know the other staff until she understood how they interacted with each other. Christopher and Marvin – or 'Cato' and 'Marvel' as everyone called them – liked to think they were ladies men when they weren't assisting in the stables. Haymitch, the butler, was a surly, grumpy man who spent most of his evenings sipping his ever-present amber liquid by the fire in the kitchen. At first she was surprised he could efficiently do his job, but after witnessing him waiting on the Duke one evening, she found he was well adept at separating his working persona to that of how he spent his own time.

Ms Trinket was one of the most sought after housekeepers in the country, and it was her ability in ensuring that Chatsworth ran smoothly that allowed her the luxury of wearing a small amount of make-up, and a less than simple hairstyle. She'd soon heard that Duchess Mary did not care for it, but the Duke had put his foot down when the Duchess had tried to dismiss her. Katniss got the sense that the Duke was far more forward-thinking than his staid, unimpressionable wife.

She often found herself playing the middle man between Madge and Johanna. Katniss was quieter than Johanna, though more fiery than Madge, and they balanced each other out. She found they actually got on quite well, and this was a pleasant surprise. They worked efficiently as a team, and their tasks were regularly completed well before they were required to be.

She found that because of that, she was able to steal some time in the surrounding woods during the day, enjoying the play of sunlight through the trees, the wind whipping the leaves and branches, the sounds of the birds as they flew through the forest.

Sometimes she instinctively reached for her bow before realising it wasn't hooked across her back anymore. With a job to support her and her family, she no longer needed to hunt.

But how desperately she missed it.

She was returning from a short stroll in the woods, quietly walking past the stables when she heard the soft neighing of the horses. Before she could think twice she snuck in to look. They were magnificent, their chestnut coats shining, their glossy hair flowing across their necks. She hesitantly reached out a hand to one of them and began slowly stroking its neck. It ducked its head towards her playfully, and she laughed. Before she realised it, she was singing, singing softly to the horse like she used to do for her sister.

"You sing beautifully," a voice suddenly said, and she whirled, terrified, clutching a hand to her chest. Oh, she hadn't meant to be caught.

"I'm so sorry, Sir," she whispered, looking at the ground. She hated feeling so subservient, but she had to be on her best behaviour to ensure she held her position. He laughed softly, and walked towards her.

"It's quite alright. I'm sure the horses appreciated it," he stopped beside her and reached out a hand to brush down the horses nose. "I take it you're relatively new here." She nodded, unsure of what to say. "Are you enjoying your work at Chatsworth?"

"Yes, Sir," she whispered. He sighed, and then she felt the tip of a finger under her chin, lifting her face up. Her eyes caught with his.

"Forgive me my forwardness, Miss, but I can't hear you if you don't look at me." She looked at him, taking in the wavy blonde hair, the bright blue eyes, the way his fit, muscular body filled out his jacket and riding breeches.

"Of course, Sir. Yes, I am enjoying my work at Chatsworth. It is a lovely estate." He grinned at her, and she blinked, momentarily surprised at the warmth, humour and sheer loveliness of it.

"That's good to hear, Miss-"

"Everdeen, Sir."

"Ah, Miss Everdeen. Yes, Ms Trinket mentioned we had a new housemaid." He paused for a moment, and his gaze caused her heart to stutter. "Well, it is lovely to meet you, Miss Everdeen. My name is Peeta." At that, her eyes flicked to him in shock, and she quickly stepped away. Confusion crossed his face as she continued to step backwards towards the stable door.

"I'm-I'm sorry, Sir. I'll be going now. Sorry. Good-bye." With that, she stumbled away, heading back to the kitchen, to the safety of the staff quarters. She couldn't believe she'd been so stupid, how she hadn't recognised him immediately.

She'd just encountered the Duke's son. The heir to Chatsworth.

She could very well have just lost her position.

* * *

But she didn't.

From then, she saw him almost every day. She found it strange that for someone whom she'd never laid eyes on for her first month, he was suddenly everywhere. 'Accidentally' coming in the staff entrance, wandering into the main parlour when she was dusting, standing just outside the stables as she scurried back from the forest. Occasionally he would try and engage her in simple conversation, other times she would just catch him watching her. It made her feel uncomfortable and wary and….intrigued.

"I don't know what it is," she confided to Madge one night as they sat side by side on Madge's bed, backs against the wall. "He appeared out of nowhere, and now I see him everywhere."

"He was away at Cambridge, you know? And now he's back for the summer."

"No, I didn't. It's really of no interest to me what the family do. I'm only here to work." Madge smiled wryly.

"Well, you'd be one of the few then. Most of the staff love to gossip a little about the Duke and Duchess, and the handsome heir."

"Madge!" Katniss admonished. "You shouldn't speak that way about Master Peeta."

"Why ever not? It's true. He is a fetching looking man, Katniss, you can't tell me you haven't noticed." Katniss opened her mouth to protest, but realised she couldn't. He was an exceptionally handsome man. Madge smiled. "See, I told you. Nevertheless, perhaps he is taken by you."

"What on earth are you talking about?"

"Well, you are very pretty, and you said he'd been following you around…"

"I did not say he'd been following me around, Madge. I said I've been seeing him around the estate often."

"Wouldn't it be romantic if he was, though? Just imagine! The future Duke falling in love with his housemaid," Madge sighed, and gazed out the small window wistfully, as if just by wishing for it, she could conjure it. Katniss huffed, shaking her head.

"And here is where Johanna would tell us he would just want a roll in the hay – which is far more likely, Madge."

Madge pouted, her lower lip sticking out. "You don't know that for sure."

"No, I don't. I'm not interested in being his plaything, and it is irrelevant the other way as well. We're of different social standings, and regardless of that, I shall never marry anyway." Madge's mouth dropped open at Katniss' announcement.

"How… how can you never want to marry, Katniss?! What will you do?"

"I'll work, for sure. I'm only 19, I have plenty of working years ahead of me. My priority is to ensure my mother and Primrose are looked after. I shall never have time for any romantic frivolity." Madge still looked a little shell shocked at Katniss' announcement, but wasn't sure what else to say, so their conversation lulled into silence. It was a long while before Madge spoke up hesitantly.

"But what if Master Peeta was interested in you, in a serious way, Katniss?"

Katniss shrugged, trying to block out the mental image of his friendly blue eyes. "That's a ridiculous notion to consider, Madge. But if he did, not only would he be seriously misguided in looking at a housemaid for that, he would also be very disappointed."

* * *

The tiles were cool under her feet as she quietly moved from her room in the direction of the kitchen. She hadn't dared to leave her quarters after hours at all since she had arrived, but her parched throat would not let her sleep. All she hoped to find was perhaps a little milk, to ease her thirst and bring on sleep. She couldn't afford to awake tired the following day – nor any day, really – and the longer she laid in bed, unable to sleep, the grumpier she knew she would be. And Ms Trinket had no patience for bad moods.

Katniss slipped around the final corner, but stopped short when she saw the glow of a light filtering out through the doorway to the kitchen and into the hall. She sighed, disappointed, knowing she really shouldn't enter if someone else was in there. She had thought Haymitch would be finished by now, and sleeping off his nightly overindulgence. But a soft chuckle, and a sharp response caused her to pause – if Haymitch was in there, he wasn't alone.

"Dammit, kid, you're going to get me in trouble one of these days," she heard Haymitch grumble, followed by the soft clink of glass against glass.

"Oh, Haymitch, you know I don't care what mother says. You're far more appealing company than any of the stuffy folk they entertain."

"I don't mean the Duchess. I don't care about her, and you know it. I meant Effie. She'd kick my ass to kingdom come if she knew you came in here to drink with me." Katniss let out a soft gasp, and raised her hand to her mouth in shock.

Master Peeta was in there with Haymitch. And they sounded…..friendly. As if they liked each other. Haymitch wasn't speaking to him like he should, like he was socially obliged to. And Peeta sounded just as carefree as Haymitch, not at all the proper man she'd deemed him to be. She peered around the corner slightly, trying to ensure she wasn't spotted, and saw them, seated across from each other, in front of the fire. Both held a tumbler of amber liquid, though Haymitch's was far emptier. This was….confusing.

"Effie likes me more than you do, anyway," she heard Peeta laugh, warm and low, and the sound of it slid over her skin like honey.

"Damn right. It wouldn't be your hide she'd be having, it would be mine, you little bastard." She heard them both laugh again, and Haymitch's was deep, gravelly, as though it was something he was unused to doing. Which was true, she thought to herself. She'd never heard him laugh before. But she'd also never heard him speak so freely either, not even with Ms Trinket – whom she presumed was Effie.

She turned, and slowly made her way back to her room. There was no way they were going to be leaving the kitchen anytime soon, and therefore there was no point to her waiting. But it had given her an interesting insight into both the butler and the master.

Katniss eventually fell asleep, dreaming of crackling fire, golden hair and a warm laugh.

* * *

Katniss hurried down the hallway, arms laden with linen. She had 15 minutes to change the sheets on Master Peeta's bed, then get back to the kitchen to assist Sae with preparations for a morning tea that Duchess Mary was hosting. All the staff were rushed off their feet, and it was compounded by Madge being violently ill, far too unwell to assist. Johanna and Katniss had to split her duties, hence Katniss attending to Master Peeta's room – it wasn't something she attended to normally.

She turned into the open doorway, and quickly shut it behind her, stalking over to the bed and stripping it down. She was so involved in her task that she didn't hear the door open, and then close. Wasn't aware of the other person in the room until a throat cleared. She jumped, the pillow clutched in her hands flying across the room. She glowered at the young man standing near the door.

"Master Peeta, you need to make yourself known in more appropriate ways than you have been," she snapped before thinking twice. He raised an eyebrow at her tone, but she refused to stand down this time. After the way she had heard he and Haymitch speak when she had observed them in the kitchen last week, she wasn't worried. Subservience be damned. Something told her he would not reprimand her. As it was, his manner of appearing unannounced around her the previous few weeks, since their first meeting, was unacceptable.

"Apologies, Miss Everdeen, on my lack of manners. I see Ms Trinket has been of some influence," he replied, biting his lip to stop from smiling.

"It has nothing to do with Ms Trinket. It's simply common courtesy to announce yourself so that you do not frighten another, as you seem so intent on doing to me." He laughed, his smile genuine as it crept across his face.

"You, surprisingly, are more of a firecracker than Miss Mason," he observed. She snorted before she could help it, then turned back to her task, her face aflame.

"I beg to differ, Sir. I simply speak my mind when called for. Johanna….. does anything and everything she chooses." The room was quiet for a moment as Katniss continued to make the bed. She heard his soft footfalls as he crossed the room, and stood beside her. She straightened up, her back perfectly straight, and turned to face him. She wished she hadn't.

This close she could see the different shades of blue in his eyes, the crinkle of laugh lines fanning out from them, a faint scar that threaded through his right eyebrow. The length of his eyelashes, the curl of his hair over his ears, the way one side of his mouth quirked up higher than the other. He was magnificent.

Subconsciously she took a step back, but found her way blocked by the bedside table. He reached up, tucking a stray hair that had come loose from her braid behind her ear. She froze, inhaling sharply.

"You're so beautiful," he whispered softly, and she blinked. It was all it took to jolt her out of her reverie, and she stepped to the side, out of his reach.

"Forgive me, Master Peeta, but I have no desire to be the housemaid you take advantage of this summer," she snapped, stalking around to the other side of the bed. His jaw dropped.

"Is that what you think of me? Is that what the other staff have told you? That I….have dalliances with the housemaids every time I return home?" he snapped. His eyes were not friendly now. They were fiery, filled with unspoken anger. She realised she may have overstepped the mark, may have completely misread him, and apologised.

"I'm sorry. No, no-one has said anything of the sort. I just….. I assumed, Sir. I am not used to compliments, and in particular, compliments from someone whose station is so far above mine." He looked at her frustrated, folding his hands behind his back.

"Well, Miss Everdeen, maybe you should. I never say anything I don't mean. I'm not going to pretend that I don't find you fascinating, and I'm not going to pretend that it seems that every waking moment I am thinking of you. The moment you opened your mouth to sing in those stables, you captured my heart. But if you are not interested, then I may have to take my affections elsewhere." She stared at him, shocked. Part of her really didn't understand what he was saying.

"Master Peeta, I think perhaps you have hit your head at some time, and are confused. I am a housemaid. You are the heir to Chatsworth. No never mind if I'm interested in you, nothing can come of it. You are required to meet and marry a lady of breeding, of which I am not. There is no point in continuing this conversation." She gathered up the linen she needed to deliver to the laundry room, and stalked over to the door. His words stopped her as her hand lingered on the doorknob.

"Oh, there certainly is, Miss Everdeen. We'll speak again soon, no doubts about it."

* * *

She snuck into the forest the following day, exhausted after a frantic 24 hours. Thankfully Madge had recovered from her illness, and was able to take over her duties again, affording Katniss a luxurious half an hour to while away her time. No one ever said anything to her although she was sure that both Ms Trinket and Haymitch were aware she stole some time out there. She took it as a sign that they were happy enough with her performance to allow her this short time alone.

She sat on the grass, simply listening to the sounds of the forest come alive around her. She ran her hands across the heads of dandelions that had sprung up in the grass, and smiled to herself, remembering the field near her home that Primrose loved to play in. It, too, was covered in dandelions.

Katniss heard the distinct sound of footsteps begin to intrude on her peacefulness, and looked up to see Peeta walking towards her. She sighed. She really didn't feel like speaking to him after their altercation the day before, knowing she would probably sound like a bumbling fool if she spoke to him again. From a young age, she had never been able to express herself particularly well in social situations. She could read and write, as her mother had been adamant she learn from a young age, as she herself had. She had been taught the proper ways to interact – what to say and how to say it – in the company of others when she was on duty. How to politely converse if and when required. But general conversation, or when she was caught off guard? Words tended to betray her, and she often found herself floundering. So she had been flabbergasted that she had been able to speak to Peeta so concisely yesterday. She was sure that if she had not heard his conversation with Haymitch, she would never have had the nerve to speak to him so forcefully in the first place. She felt awkward when she was around him, and could only blame her inappropriate interaction on that. However, she knew it would seem rude if she stood up and walked away, now that she'd seen him.

He stopped in front of her and lowered himself to the ground, hitching his trousers and crossing his legs in front of him.

"Miss Everdeen," he greeted.

"Master Peeta," she replied. He shook his head.

"Please, call me Peeta."

"I'm sorry, Sir, I can't do that. It isn't proper." He sighed.

"Do you really think I care about what's proper or not?" he asked.

"I'm not sure. I don't really know you."

"Well, why don't you get to know me?"

"I'm not sure that's very proper either."

"Are you always this obstinate?"

"Are you always this persistent?"

"Yes."

"Well so am I." She looked at him defiantly, waiting for him to respond. The laugh rolled out of him, and he rested his elbows on his knees, tucking his chin into his hands. "What's so funny?" she demanded.

"You, Miss Everdeen, are a surprise a minute. No wonder I want to spend time with you." She shook her head and looked away. His words – and his gaze – left her feeling flustered. He sighed. "You still don't believe me, do you? That I could simply be interested in getting to know you better. That I might be interested in you."

"Mast- Peeta," she corrected herself, barely able to contain the eye roll that wanted to accompany it, "It does not matter what I think. Society may be backwards and continue to fall on old traditions that set our social standings, but it means nothing to me. You could be as poor as dirt for all I cared, and it would not make a difference." There were those words again! How confused she was as to where they came from, how well-spoken they made her sound. She could only assume her awkwardness brought out a side of her she had never knew existed.

"I didn't realise you were such an advocate for equality, Miss Everdeen," Peeta grinned. "Not everyone has such positive ideals as yourself."

"Well, most from the upper class wouldn't, as they are far too happy with what they have. It is the have-nots who struggle with how our society works. I do not see you complaining of your station."

"Oh, but I do." He looked at her intently. "Every morning I wake up cursing the fact that because of my place in society, I can't be with the woman who intrigues me more than any other I've met." His words pulled her up short as his meaning sunk in. He was actually talking about her. "Along with the fact that her obvious prejudice towards me is due to this."

"I beg to differ," she retorted. "While, yes, that is certainly part of the reason why your comments and suggestions are inappropriate, I simply have no interest in marriage and the like. So your advances are unnecessary and for nought." She pulled herself to her feet, prepared to storm off on him, when he sprang up beside her, and clasped his hand over her arm. She glared down at it.

"I would ask you to remove your hand, Sir," she demanded through gritted teeth.

"Gladly," he replied, dropping her arm, and promptly framing her face with both hands, pressing his lips to hers. Her cries of outrage were mumbles against his mouth, the thumps of her hands against his chest not making a difference. He simply wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her to him.

And it felt glorious.

Her hands gripped the front of his jacket, while her mouth fought angrily with his. It felt wrong on so many levels, but felt right on so many more. He made her feel a great many things she never thought she would.

He pulled away, resting his forehead on hers, his eyes closed, his breathing heavy and laboured.

"I'd say I'm sorry, Miss Everdeen, but I'm clearly not," he finally whispered, opening his eyes. She looked at him carefully, and saw the honest truth in them.

"Neither am I," she said quietly, surprising both of them with her words.

It was only the beginning.


	2. Chapter 2

**Thank you to those who started following this story when it was first posted as a one-shot, and had marked it as complete. I just wasn't sure when I would get back to it, after submitting for PiP.**

**I have made some amendments to chapter one, including a couple of new or extended scenes, just to provide a bit more explanation in some areas.**

* * *

But beginnings are often fraught with uncertainty and doubt. Beginnings can be positive or negative, can bring about a series of events that affect everyone involved that cannot be taken back.

* * *

The beginning set in place that afternoon in the woods changed everything for Peeta and Katniss. At that time, though, it was something that neither was aware of.

"Katniss! Miss Everdeen! Open up!" She could hear the voice, but ignored it, instead selecting to roll over and push her face deeper into the pillow. The call was soon followed by a loud thump on the door, then the scrabbling of a key in the lock. Her eyes flew open as she realised the person was going to come into her room regardless of whether she let them in or not.

Then she remembered she wasn't at home, why she was avoiding rising, and how it certainly wasn't going to be mother or Prim at the door.

She sat upright in bed just as Ms Trinket threw the door open, her face flushed and her skirt swinging.

"Katniss Everdeen, what are you doing?!" Her voice was laced with frustration and annoyance. "You're half an hour late for your duties. Are you sick? Have you caught Margaret's illness?" Katniss scrambled out from the covers, her bare feet landing on the cool tiles of the floor, her long white nightgown twisted around her ankles.

"I'm….I'm sorry Ms Trinket. I don't think I am…I can't be well. I slept…awfully," she trailed off in a whisper, and the annoyance on Ms Trinket's face fell away at Katniss' words. She moved towards Katniss, placing a hand on her forehead in a motherly fashion.

"Miss Everdeen, you are indeed quite warm. The last thing we need is for another ill housemaid, or for germs to spread throughout the rest of the staff. I will leave you this morning and Johanna and Margaret will see to your duties. But I will return at lunch to check on you. If at that time, you are feeling properly rested, you will return to your duties. Understand?"

"Yes, Ms Trinket. Thank you," she said softly in response. Ms Trinket dipped her head slightly and moved from the room, locking it behind her. Katniss rubbed her hands over her face and sank back down onto the bed.

She wasn't sick. She just couldn't bear to face Master Peeta in any capacity.

She cringed as she thought back to the afternoon before, their moment in the woods where they both lost their heads, and disregarded any thought, any rhyme or reason other than each other. They forgot their place, their station, the expectations placed upon them, and simply wrapped themselves in each other's arms until guilt, and remembrance, slowly began to filter through.

She'd told him she wasn't sorry about what had happened, but the moment the words left her mouth, she knew she should be. She knew she would be. Nothing good could come of this. Nothing at all.

So instead she'd pulled herself from his arms and run from the woods, away from him and the arms that felt so right to be in. Ignored his calls for her, his voice carrying through the woods, resounding in her ears.

She had no desire or inclination for marriage. She had no right to look beyond her station. But Peeta Mellark, heir to Chatsworth and to the title of Duke of Devonshire, had given her cause to disregard any and all of those previous thoughts she'd held. And for that reason alone, she could not see him anymore. Why she had to avoid him at all costs.

She did not come to Chatsworth to leave in the same state as the last housemaid, as that would be the only thing likely to come of it.

She laid back on the bed, trying to determine how long he would remain at the estate until his return to Cambridge. After a discreet discussion with Madge the night before- centred simply around how long they would have to 'continue to have to include Master Peeta's bedroom in their morning duties' – she'd discovered the next semester at Cambridge, the Michelmas Term – would begin in October. It was late August, so she would only have to worry about him for 5 more weeks. Then he would return to university, and by the time he arrived back at the estate in December, ready for Christmas, she was sure his affections would have turned elsewhere. And she could continue on her way with her work, ensuring she maintained her support to mother and Prim, visiting them when she could.

She would wallow in self-pity for the morning, then return to her duties once Ms Trinket came to retrieve her. And then it would be done.

Peeta Mellark was just a beautiful distraction she didn't need.

* * *

"Bloody hell, Katniss, I worked my ass to the bone this morning," Johanna grumbled as they sat down for their evening meal in the kitchen. A variety of staff made their way through the kitchen, some coming, some going, and the room was filled with the sounds of friendly camaraderie. Normally, she loved the sounds in the kitchen, the way everyone laughed, and joked and forgot, even for five minutes, their life outside of that room. Not tonight though, when her body ached and her head pounded. Katniss had left her room promptly at midday, and had thrown herself into her work to make up for the lost time. As a result, she was exhausted, and hoped her tired body would help her rest better that evening. Johanna nudged her to get her attention, when it was apparent Katniss had stopped listening. Katniss barely prevented herself from rolling her eyes before she faced Johanna, with what she hoped was interest on her face. "And the Duchess was in a damned mood, firing off ridiculous requests left, right and centre. I hope you've bloody recovered." Ms Trinket walked behind Johanna, swatting her hand, and glared at her pointedly before moving towards Sae at the fireplace. Johanna rolled her eyes. "Fine, I hope you've recovered," she amended sarcastically.

"I'm fine now, thank you for your concern, Johanna," Katniss replied. If Johanna caught the edge of sarcasm, she didn't acknowledge it. Madge slid into place beside her and smiled softly, placing her bowl on the table in front of her.

"That's good to hear, Katniss. I'm sorry if you caught my illness."

"Oh, I'm sure it wasn't the same thing. I felt absolutely fine by the time Ms Trinket returned to check on me. Just a short term thing."

"In the morning and all," Cato snickered from his place further down the table. "You ain't got Glimmer's illness, have you?" Marvel snorted beside him, but before Katniss could even react, Ms Trinket had bustled her way over to him, rapping him across the knuckles, her mouth set firmly.

"Christopher, I will not have that discussed at my table. And so rudely. Apologise to Katniss immediately. You have no right to say such a thing." He flushed, and muttered an apology, but Katniss looked away, feeling the heat in her own cheeks rise. That was exactly her point, exactly her reasoning for staying away from Master Peeta. She did not need rumours like that to start, nor did she need any basis for them to begin, either. She watched as Haymitch studied her carefully, and she wondered – horrified – if he knew.

She pushed her bowl away, her spoon clattering onto the table, and rose to leave. Everyone turned to face her. "I'm sorry. I – I'm going to retire for the evening." She quickly turned out of the room, hurrying along the hall, skirts swishing around her ankles in her haste.

"Hold up a minute, sweetheart," a voice called behind her, and she paused, closing her eyes. Haymitch. She slowly turned to face him, her eyes flitting open as she did so.

"Yes, Haymitch?" She said as politely as possible, although she wasn't keen on the term of endearment he'd elected to use. He sidled towards her, fiddling with the pocket watch that hung from the breast pocket of his jacket. He studied her, his eyes a rheumy grey that gave nothing away.

"I think we need to speak about the boy."

Her mouth dropped open. "I beg your pardon?"

He chuckled, and looked over his shoulder cautiously before he spoke. "The boy asked after you this morning. He didn't tell me anything more, but I have to make some assumptions."

"When you say 'the boy', I can only assume you're speaking of Master Peeta, and there is no reason to make assumptions of any sort."

"Sweetheart, I've been here longer than the boy's been alive. Plus, I know him better than anyone else in this damn house. He's never asked after one of the household staff, not in the way he did today." She swallowed the lump in her throat that was threatening to restrict her air.

"I am unaware of what it could be in relation to. I apologise if he bothered you when asking after me. Now if-"

"He's not going to let this lie easily, you know," he interrupted, his fingers twisting the watch in his hand. She vaguely wondered if it was how he kept himself occupied, his mind busy, while he waited for that time when he could be by the fire each night. "He's determined, that boy is, in anything he sets his mind to. He's got a soft heart, though, one easily hurt and broken." Her fingers trembled at his words, and she hid them in the folds of her skirt. She dropped her gaze, unable to look at him any longer, while she blatantly denied knowing what it was he spoke of, when she knew without a shadow of a doubt. Master Peeta may not have said anything to him, but Haymitch was smart. Observant. She had to be exceptionally careful around him.

"I have had cause to have a few conversations with Master Peeta. We have discussed the horses. Perhaps he was interested in speaking of them with me today," she said softly, hoping with this, she could deter him from asking anything more. He snorted, and she looked up at him in surprise.

"Tell yourself, and me, that all you like sweetheart. But it's ok. Your secret is safe with me." His lip twitched in something that resembled a smile, and he turned on his heel, back to the kitchen. Katniss slunk away to her room, knowing that now, more than ever; she had to ensure her distance from the family of the house.

* * *

Peeta glared out of his window, looking out over the vast acres of the estate. From here he could see the woods to his left, and the stables that caused both his heart to clench and his teeth to grind.

He hadn't seen Katniss all week. Not since he'd lost his head, and his heart, in a kiss in the middle of the woods. She'd dutifully avoided him, ensuring whatever tasks she was required to fulfil were always where he wasn't. Despite numerous pleas to Haymitch – who hadn't taken long to clue into Peeta's feelings for Katniss – for information on her schedule or an opportunity to speak with her, he had been respectfully declined.

He didn't know what he'd said, what he'd done, to cause her to so abruptly turn away. Particularly when she had seemed sincere with her words after their kiss. All he knew was that since the moment he'd heard her sing, in those stables close to a month ago, he hadn't been able to remove her from his mind. She was all he thought about, all he dreamed about.

Turning to his bed, he slipped on the horse-riding jacket that had been left out for him. He needed to ensure he remained in peak physical shape during his break, and horse riding was the only thing he found appealing enough to continue while back at the estate. His crew would skin him alive if he returned for Michelmas unfit and slow. It didn't matter if it was months' away – beating Oxford at the yearly boat race was all that mattered to most of them. It was the only thing getting him through his dreary years at university. His mother had demanded he attend Cambridge, but not to do anything "of too much importance. It didn't matter either way, for he was destined to become Duke, and really, what good would a degree be for him then?"

He despised her apathy towards education and her complete disregard for any and all of his wishes. Though, after 24 years, he should be used to it by now.

Peeta often wished he had a brother who he could pass the title along to, because he cared nothing for it. Then he would run away to America, follow so many other Cambridge scholars, to a land of opportunity and a lack of ridiculous titles and statuses.

He moved from his room, down the thickly carpeted hallway, his soft leather riding boots barely making a dent in the elaborate floral patterns. He tipped his head towards one of the senior maids – Cecelia, if his memory served correct – as she scurried past him with the Duchess' breakfast, and headed out the back entrance towards the stables. It didn't take long for his horse, Mockingjay, to be saddled, and despite both Cato and Marvel trying to engage him in conversation, he politely brushed them off, heading into the open field and breaking out into a gallop as soon as he could.

Never in a million years had Peeta imagined he would fall for someone like Katniss. His entire life, he had been directed, repeatedly, to consider a match between himself and either Lady Delilah Elizabeth Cartwright or Lady Annabelle Clover Roderick. They both had impeccable breeding, and came with the social status his mother desired his wife to hold. She blindly disregarded the rumours of Lady Annabelle's notorious temper tantrums, and adamantly reputed the nonsense the moment it was spoken by anyone. It didn't matter to Peeta either way. Neither had ever been particularly appealing.

Instead, he had fallen for a feisty but shy housemaid, with hair the colour of aged oak and grey eyes that shimmered like the fog that settled on the Tideway. Whose voice was so beautiful it seemed to make the birds stop to listen.

Who seemed determined to avoid him at all costs.

Peeta rode for an hour, letting the peaceful but strenuous ride help rid him of the tension filling his body. He eventually slowed down to a canter as he made his way towards the carriage house at the end of his ride. Both the Duke and Duchess were at home, and it was too early for any errands to be run, so by all accounts, Gale should be there. Other than Haymitch, Gale Hawthorne was the only person at Chatsworth that Peeta felt he could be himself around. It had taken a lot of continuous effort by Peeta, which had culminated in a drunken night of poker in Gale's quarters above the carriage house between themselves and Haymitch, that had cemented their friendship. Gale was possibly the only person he knew, other than Katniss, to hold such deep-seeded and obvious anger and frustration towards the social inequality that abounded in society. It was that reason alone that it had taken Peeta so long to break down the distrust Gale had innately held. But something, he wasn't sure what, had urged him to befriend the tall, dark-haired driver.

He dismounted, tethering the horse to a hitching post he'd had the head gardener, Theodore – or Thresh, as he was affectionately known – install, scuffed his boots on the bottom step and made his way up.

"Gale! Are you home?" he called. He waited a moment, then heard the tell-tale thud of heavy boots on wood. He opened the door before Gale could let him in.

"You're up early," Gale muttered, scratching the back of his head.

"It's 8.30am. I'd say you're up late," Peeta replied with a smile. Gale shrugged.

"Neither the Duke or Duchess needed me this morning, but I'm needed this evening until 11pm. I took the time while I could."

"Ah yes," Peeta cringed. "We have dinner with the Cartwrights. For perhaps the third time since I returned from Cambridge."

"Stop complaining, Peeta. You got no problem with Delilah, remember?"

Peeta sighed. "I know. Our parents just seem to have no understanding that neither of us hold an interest for the other. Delilah is set on marrying Viscount Thompson, and I….well, I am simply set on not marrying Delilah or Annabelle, no matter how much my mother insists."

Gale yawned, and slipped on the black, thigh-length coat he wore every day, rain, hail or shine. "So it don't have anything to do with a certain new housemaid?"

Peeta felt his heart leap into his throat, but years of maintaining a straight, and unaffected, face in any and all social situations had schooled him well. His eyes barely flickered as he returned Gale's look.

"I'm not sure what you're referring to, Gale," Peeta replied, his voice smooth and almost bored. Gale snorted, straightening the cuffs of the coat.

"That's fine, don't talk to me about it then. But I know you. You'll want to speak about this eventually. When you do….go speak to Haymitch." Gale winked at him, smothering a laugh at Peeta's attempt to look indifferent, and headed for the door. "Now I have to go to the market. If you don't wanna come, off with you." Peeta nodded, and followed him back down the stairs, untethering Mockingjay and hoisted himself back into the saddle. "I'll see you later tonight, a'right?" Gale said.

"Yes, tonight. To go to the Cartwrights."

"Yup. Better wear your best coat, Casanova."

"Shut up, you devil," Peeta retorted, but it was accompanied with a smile. He gave a small salute to Gale, and rode off back in the direction of the stables. The thought of having dinner with the Cartwrights was depressing, but at least he knew Delilah would be rolling her eyes at their parents along with him.

He reached the stables and dismounted, offered Mockingjay the carrot Cato always kept beside the stall for whenever they returned from a ride, and adjusted his jacket around his midsection. So intent was he, on his thoughts of the evening ahead, that he didn't notice Katniss as she entered the stables from the opposite end, heading straight for the ponies there. He didn't notice her until he literally walked into her, throwing both of them off balance and tumbling to the cobblestones beneath their feet. Her squeak of surprise as she half landed on top of him sent a thrill ripple across his skin, even as it was obvious that she was frantically pushing him away, and pulling herself to her feet.

"I'm terribly sorry," he apologised, bracing his hands to the stones and pushing himself to his feet. She had already risen, or he would have offered her his hand. "I was distracted and didn't see you."

"Very well," she replied stiffly, her eyes darting left and right. "I'll be on my way, sir." She brushed past him, heading in the direction she'd come from, her pace hurried and frantic. Peeta ran out after her, careful not to raise his voice too loud and raise suspicion.

"Miss Everdeen, wait!" he called. She continued to ignore him, but speed was one thing he possessed. He reached her on the edges of the herb gardens Sae maintained, quickly reaching out for her hand and pulling her to a stop. Katniss turned, but tugged her hand away immediately.

"Yes, Master Peeta?" she asked politely, and it made him grind his teeth in frustration.

"Miss Everdeen - Katniss," he pleaded. "What is going on? What have I done to offend you so? I thought I made my feelings perfectly clear?"

"Yes, sir, you did," she replied, her gaze fixed firmly on the top button of his jacket. He sighed.

"Then what is it? Why are you avoiding me?" At this, she locked gazes with him, and he could see how she felt reflected in her eyes. Miserable. Sad. Tired.

But her eyes also held the longing he knew his own clearly held.

She sighed, and carefully looked around. "I'm sorry, Master Peeta, if I gave any indication that our kiss could lead to anything. You and I both know it is futile, and pointless, to pretend that anything could come of it. So I felt it best that we leave it at that."

He shook his head forcefully. "I don't believe I agree with you, Katniss. I refuse to let what I feel for you to go to waste." Peeta watched as a muscle in her cheek twitched, as her fists clenched and unclenched at her sides.

"I'm sorry, Master Peeta," she repeated. "I have to go." She whirled on her feet, heading for the staff entrance, but he didn't follow.

He would give her time. But not long.

* * *

**A/N - Thank you for reading! Thanks also to those who provided assistance with this story. **


	3. Chapter 3

Dinner had, as usual, been perfectly prepared and executed. The cook at the Cartwright estate was well-known and highly regarded - so much so, that a number of years before, the Duchess had tried to lure him away to be employed at Chatsworth.

The Duke and the Cartwrights had promptly put a stop to that, and they now politely elected to pretend that the entire situation had never occurred.

Peeta sat on the edge of the overstuffed embroidered chair in the parlour, accepting the glass of brandy from the butler, and tugged on the collar of his dinner jacket. It didn't matter how many times he dressed for occasions like this – he never felt comfortable, and always longed for the time he could return home, remove his tie and drink a brandy on his own.

Some days he wondered if he was cut out to be a Duke. He certainly didn't feel it.

"Peeta, why don't you and Lady Delilah take a turn around the room? I'm sure you have much to speak of," The Duchess piped up, interrupting his thoughts. He glanced at his mother, seated on a velvet loveseat beside Lady Cartwright, their backs ramrod straight, then over at Delilah, who had just entered the room.

"Yes, of course," Peeta replied smoothly, standing and extending his arm to his childhood friend, who accepted it obligingly. Their steps around the room were slow, measured, and Peeta had to hold back a grin each time Delilah grimaced. She'd divulged one afternoon during a horse ride that the fashions at the moment weren't the most conducive to breathing. Or eating dessert.

"Peeta, whatever shall we do with our parents?" She sighed, once they were out of earshot. They remained along the edges of the room, moving slowly past the windows that, during the day, looked over the estates meticulous gardens.

"You already have another, just as respectable, suitor, Delly," he reminded her, using the affectionate nickname he only ever used around her. "Perhaps you and Viscount Thompson should simply elope and knock all this nonsense on the head." She smiled, a twinkle appearing in her eye.

"And our parents would simply love that. You understand they have been seeking a match between us for quite some time."

Peeta barely managed to maintain his composure and not roll his eyes. "The Duchess has also made numerous mentions of Lady Annabelle as well, so she's not above attempting to match me with others. I simply suggest that, if you and Thompson wish to wed, damn our parents. Yours cannot be unhappy with your match, as the Thompson estate is well appointed and quite significant. I feel, in this instance, my mother would be the only person left with disappointment."

"And the Duke?" Delilah asked, smoothing a hand along the side of her hair, ensuring her elegant top knot was still in place. Peeta glanced over his shoulder at his father, where he stood with Lord Cartwright in front of the fire, and thought carefully of his answer.

"I believe the Duke would be happy for you and the Viscount," he finally replied, patting her hand gently, unawares that at that moment the Duchess was watching them, and interpreted the gesture in a completely different manner than it was intended. He turned to face Delilah, nothing but earnest sincerity on his face and in his voice.

"Delly, you need to do what is right for you. By choosing to be with the Viscount, you will in no way disappoint the Earl and Countess. Your parents should, by all rights, be thrilled with the match. Thompson is a terrific chap. I believe you will be happy with him." He watched as Delilah nodded her head, and a look of calm crossed her face.

"Of course, you are right, Peeta. As usual. I should not have allowed it to drag on as much as I have." Peeta shook his head.

"The timing, when it happens, will simply be the right time. There is no point in hurrying. And as it is, the Viscount has been away on business for a number of weeks. There is no way we would have been able to avoid these….."

"Attempted interventions?" Delilah smiled, and they both laughed slightly.

"It is almost an intervention," Peeta conceded. "My mother, intervening on my 'lacklustre attempt to find a wife and set to preparing my own heir'." She looked at him sympathetically.

"I'm terribly sorry, Peeta, if that is what she alludes to."

"The Duchess is not known for her tact. And as her marriage was simply a match befitting my parents' station, she has never understood my desire to have a proper connection with my future wife. You are lucky with the Viscount, Delly. A match that is both a love and societal match. I can only hope I hear good news soon, now that he has returned from London."

They continued to walk slowly around the room, ignoring the curious looks of Lady Cartwright and the downright triumphant of the Duchess, conversing on his activities at Cambridge, as well as the new priest at the local parish, winding down the hours of the evening.

"Peeta," A deep voice called from across the room. He looked over to see his parents standing just inside the doorway, his father looking at him with the slightest sense of sympathy. "It's time for us to depart." Peeta nodded, tipped his head to Delilah, bid farewell to the Earl and Countess, and followed the butler and his parents out to their carriage, where Gale waited. He allowed his mother to enter first, followed by his father, and he entered last, giving Gale a wry smile as he closed the carriage door behind him.

"Peeta, how was your evening with Lady Delilah? She is quite lovely. And quite suitable for the wife of a future Duke," The Duchess started the moment the carriage began moving down the drive.

"Mary, not now," The Duke demanded, his voice soft but strong. Peeta looked at him thankfully, but it didn't stop The Duchess from continuing.

"Henry, Peeta is 24 years old. He is not getting any younger, and neither are we. The assurance of our line relies on him, and he needs to begin to think seriously of taking a wife. After this evening, it seems perfectly evident that there is progression in a relationship with the Lady Delilah. There is no reason for them to delay any longer."

The words tumbled out of Peeta's mouth before he could stop them. "There is nothing between Lady Delilah and myself. We are simply friends. Nothing more. Please do not continue to perpetuate the notion of the two of us becoming betrothed." He rarely spoke back to his mother – he'd learned long ago that it never did him any good – and both the Duke and Duchess stared back at him, open mouthed.

"Peeta, I do not appreciate your tone, or your manner of speaking. You will continue to consider a possible match between yourself and Lady Delilah, and that is _that_." The Duchess' words were firm, to the point of scolding, and Peeta knew his father would not intervene this time. Peeta jutted out his chin, and stared out the carriage window, into the dark. Until Delilah married Viscount Thompson, he would continue to have to listen to the Duchess, and her thousands of reasons why he and Delilah should wed.

Although then he would have to listen to nothing but the urgency for him to make a match with Lady Annabelle. He grit his teeth, knowing that as much as both he and Delilah hated the actions of their parents, he'd take that any day over having to deal with Lady Annabelle.

His mother continued to mutter under her breath to the Duke, until finally it seemed she had said all she needed to say. The rest of the ride was spent in silence, the only noise the hooting of owls in the distance and the constant clip-clop of the horses' hooves.

The lights of Chatsworth finally came into view, and Gale guided them up the drive, finally halting to a stop outside of the main entrance. He quickly dismounted from the front of the carriage and held the door open to them. The Duke and Duchess passed by him without a second glance, but Peeta stepped off last, pausing slightly.

"Whisky in the kitchen?" He muttered under his breath, glancing sideways at Gale, who nodded slightly. He dipped his head and moved inside, noting his parents had immediately headed for their quarters. He reached into his pocket, pulling out his fob watch, and checked the time. 11.15pm exactly.

He headed straight for the kitchen.

* * *

Katniss sat up straight in bed, her unconscious thoughts waking her sharply from her sleep.

_Damn! _

With the family out for the evening, the staff had had a relaxed, almost jovial, night. Cards had been played, a little whisky had been poured into tea, and a lot of laughing had ensued. Sae and Ms Trinket had retired early, and Katniss had been tasked to store the leftover biscuits and unused tea leaves in the pantry once their card game had wrapped up.

Of course, after watching a playful wrestle between Cato and Marvel descend into madness, she'd promptly forgotten her task, and had let them dispose of the shattered milk jug that was the casualty of their debauchery. She and the other staff had quickly left for bed.

But now she knew she had to get up, and complete the task assigned to her. She hated leaving a job unfinished, incomplete, and would not be able to sleep until she had done so.

Katniss quickly slid out of bed, slipping on the old, tattered slippers she'd had for as long as she could remember, and stole out of her room, her footsteps quick and hurried. The last thing she needed was to be seen, and breathed a sigh of relief as she saw no light spilling from the kitchen doorway.

She stepped inside, quickly lighting a candle Sae kept on the fireplace ledge, and spied the leftovers from the earlier get together. She sighed, wondering why it didn't enter anyone else's mind to tidy up. Gathering the biscuits that had been plated up, she carefully slid them back into the glass jar, sealing the lid tightly, and placing it back on the third shelf in the large walk-in-pantry. The tea, thankfully, had all been finished, and she simply had to wash the teapot and the single cup, along with the biscuit plate, that still remained on the table.

Washing the few items did not take long, and she quickly wiped the wooden bench in front of her, ensuring the room was spotless, and would meet both Sae and Ms Trinket's approval. She moved towards the fireplace, and leant up to blow the candle out.

"Oh good, you're here, get that wh-" the voice behind her cut off, and she froze, in horror. _She knew that voice. Bollocks. _

Katniss slowly turned, leaving the candle alight. The look of shock on Master Peeta's face surely mirrored her own.

"Ah – my apologies, Miss Everdeen," he said formally. "I was under the impression Abernathy was in here. I shall leave you to be." She shook her head, taking half a step forward.

"No, Master Peeta, I should apologise. I am only still here as I had some tasks to complete. I shall be going now, and you can wait here for Mr Abernathy. Good evening." He moved inside the door, into the kitchen, and she was able to get a better look at him. The faint candlelight threw a flickering, orange glow across his face, turning his blonde hair gold. The collar of his shirt was slightly askew, the ascot tie he'd worn hanging limply from his hand. She hated the fact he was so attractive.

She watched as his eyes travelled from her face, down to the tips of her slippers peeking from underneath her nightgown, back up to her face…..

_Dear god, she was in her nightgown!_

Her face flushed in horror, and she quickly moved away from the fireplace, skirting around the edge of the kitchen to avoid coming too close to him. She was almost out the door, her back scraping along the edge of the wall, when his hand reached out and clasped her forearm.

"Wait, Miss Everdeen," he said softly. She stopped, but didn't shift her gaze to look at him, simply repeated the words _nightgown, nightgown, nightgown _over and overin her head. "Will you look at me, please?" She continued to ignore him, until she felt his hand rest under her chin, turning her face towards him. His eyes were full of intent, laced with an edge of sadness she couldn't quite place. She didn't say anything – she couldn't, her tongue was so tied – and didn't resist when he pulled her closer to him, shifting his body so they were aligned in front of each other. His other hand trailed down the long length of her braid, his fingers resting in the strands just below the ribbon that kept it in place.

"It seems I can't stay away from you, even when I'm not aware of it," he whispered, and she watched his gaze slip down to her bottom lip, where her tongue had nervously snuck out and slicked along.

"You…you should stay away," she whispered, feeling her fingers begin to tremble. She clasped her hands together. "And you should not be here. Neither should I."

"You're not so abrupt and forthright in the night, are you, Miss Everdeen?" he said softly, the shifting of his fingers in her hair causing her braid to pull slightly. She shook her head.

"There are times….I have to remember my place, sir. It would not do for me to be caught in the staff kitchen, in the middle of the night, in my nightgown no less, with the future Duke. But I do beg of you to let me leave." No matter how many times she tried to turn her gaze away, she couldn't. She was trapped in those blazing eyes.

"I'll let you go if you let me kiss you." He said it so softly, she almost thought she imagined it, but she knew she wasn't. The look on his face, the way his hand grasped her chin so delicately, the way his fingers moved nervously in her hair, told her he was feeling exactly the way she was. Exactly the way neither of them should.

"I can't allow you to do that," she whispered, though her heart ached to say yes.

"Tell me why. There's no one but you and I here. Why shouldn't we do something that we both know we want to do?" He dipped his head towards her, and she jerked back awkwardly, almost catching herself off balance. She managed to pull herself from his grasp, and clung to the doorframe as if for dear life.

"It does not matter what we _want _to do," Katniss said quietly, but forcefully. "We do what we are supposed to do. What we're told to do. What we're meant to do." She watched as his hands fisted at his sides, the forgotten tie now crumpled in a heap on the floor. The candlelight reflected in his eyes, and she knew he wasn't happy with what she was saying. It didn't matter. Happiness wasn't her primary focus. And Master Peeta needed to realise that nothing could ever, _ever_ happen. It was not right. It was wrong, for so many reasons she couldn't count. She took another deep breath, knowing she had to cut him deep. "And we're not meant to do this. Never. That kiss…..was the biggest mistake of my life. And I don't make the same mistake twice. Good night, Master Peeta. Enjoy your evening with Mr Abernathy." She whirled, racing along the hall, not caring if anyone heard her. All she cared about was putting a safe distance between herself and the man she left behind.

* * *

The buzz in the kitchen was palpable as Katniss entered, and she absently rubbed her tired eyes. Her sleep continued to be fractured and, even two days after her last encounter with Master Peeta, her thoughts continued to haunt her. Her definite, and quite possibly harsh, words turning him away.

He would have no idea how much those uttered words had hurt her to say, but it did not change the fact that they had needed to be said.

She quietly sat beside Madge and Johanna as they giggled and laughed at the clump of porridge stuck, unbeknownst to him, on the side of Marvel's mouth. She slowly ate her portion of food as she watched Sae shift between the fireplace and the large ovens, a frenzied set to her pace. She watched Haymitch pause at the door, just outside in the hall, eyeing the numerous staff warily, before she caught his eye. He turned on his heel, stalking back down the corridor, but not before shooting her an almost imperceptible glare.

She sighed softly, knowing that what she had said to Master Peeta had already made its way back to Haymitch. She thought he would be happy that she had halted anything happening between them. Perhaps she was wrong.

The moment the breakfast dishes had been cleared, Ms Trinket was upon the three girls, her manner hurried and not a little abrupt. "Ladies, I will need you in the yellow drawing room this morning. As you were advised last weekend, the Duchess is hosting another afternoon tea, and we need to prepare. I understand this is short notice, but this gathering is quite a bit larger than we originally anticipated, and we will need all the assistance we are able to obtain." She eyed them, three women who seemed to have formed a close - albeit surprising – bond. Individually, they were good, solid workers. The three of them together, however, were an efficient and effective team. In the short time since Katniss had arrived at Chatsworth and banded the three together, Ms Trinket had come to rely on them for many an important matter. "We shall also need you on hand this afternoon for the actual event. I know this means additional tasks and likely a very busy day ahead, but I trust between the three of you and the other housemaids, you will be able to attend to all your duties. Are we clear?" The tone was brisk, firm - and already a little tired.

"Of course, Ms Trinket. We'll start immediately," Madge said quietly, her hands folded in front of her. Katniss and Johanna simply nodded their agreement, before they turned on their heels and hurried towards the drawing room.

"Bloody hell, I don't know why this woman consistently insists on hosting these parties. No-one comes because they like her," Johanna muttered, flicking her hair behind her ear.

"Hush, Johanna. That's no way to speak," Madge scolded her.

"Oh shut up, Mini Trinket," Johanna shot back, rolling her eyes.

"We all know Johanna speaks the truth," Katniss interjected, to save them going any further. "But it's not about whether the guests like the Duchess or not. Chatsworth is known for its events, and an invitation is not one to be ignored. Even I am aware of that, and I have not been here but 2 months," she finished quietly as they turned the last corner into the yellow drawing room. It was one of the Duchess' favourite places to hold an event - particularly those of the afternoon tea variety - and was beautifully appointed.

Katniss found it over-extravagant and the chairs uncomfortable, but it was not her opinion that mattered.

They set to task first with the silverware, containing conversation to a minimum, lest one of the family enter. They had already been admonished once before for their frivolity in the family quarters - it would not bode well for that to occur again. Their morning passed in a blur, filled with the preparation of linen for the tables, china set out for tea and a seemingly never ending requirement to dust every fixture, frame and sideboard in the room. By the time guests began arriving, and Katniss had managed to escape back to the kitchen, she had never been as exhausted as she currently felt.

She couldn't be more thankful that this weekend was her appointed time off from her duties.

"Miss Everdeen, could you please assist me by taking this tray out to the drawing room?" Ms Trinket called from the other side of the kitchen, breaking Katniss out of her thoughts, and indicating towards a heavy silver platter resting on the large butcher block table.

"Ms Trinket, I-"

"No excuses, Miss Everdeen. I would like to have this first round of tea and cake presented as quickly as possible. I know you do not care for being present during the events the Duchess hosts, but I request you complete this task." Normally Ms Trinket was happy to let Katniss assist in the kitchen, rather than serving, on the odd occasion the junior housemaids were required to be present for events. But not today. The Duchess had been emphatic in her demands that the afternoon be as smooth as possible, and Ms Trinket could not afford to let Katniss' awkwardness around others stop her from utilising one of her best employees.

"Of course, Ms Trinket," Katniss replied softly. Ms Trinket dipped her head in approval.

"This simply needs to be taken through to the drawing room, and placed on the buffet at the end of the room. The wait staff will take care of it from there. After that, you can assist Sae for the rest of the afternoon. Oh, and remember, Miss Everdeen. In the company of the Duchess, you are to be as unobtrusive as possible." Katniss nodded, and moved towards the table, gripping the two edges of the heavy platter, trying to rest it as comfortably as she could. She walked carefully down the servants' hall, out into the west wing, and moved slowly across the heavy carpet. She paused at the entry to the drawing room, glancing at the meticulously dressed women, with their fashionable dresses, beautiful jewels and carefully coiffed hair.

It did nothing but set her teeth on edge.

Katniss made her way through the room, trying to be as inconspicuous as possible. She skirted the edges, the delicately arranged platter of sweets clutched tightly in her hands. All she had to do was place it on the buffet, and the other house staff would look after it from there. All she had to do was move around this final loveseat unseen, place it down, and then she could escape. But the Duchess was perched rigidly on that final loveseat, speaking loudly enough to the guest next to her that practically everyone within earshot could hear.

Including Katniss.

"And such exciting news to announce, it will be too. I do believe we've waited long enough, but I assure you, before Peeta returns to Cambridge, he and Lady Delilah will be betrothed. I'm hoping we shall be able to organise it in time for Christmas, when he returns again. Can you imagine? The wedding of Peeta and Lady Delilah will simply be THE event to attend during this holiday season."

The guest beside her trilled her joy at the news, and they both laughed gently, before the Duchess began joyfully extolling the beauty of a winter wedding.

Katniss couldn't control the thumping of her heart, the blood rushing to her head, the way her throat clenched and her eyes threatened to water.

_Peeta was getting married._

Her fingers trembled, and the silver platter she held in her hands crashed to the ground.

* * *

**A/N - Thanks for reading, and all the follows, favourites and reviews. They all mean a lot! Thanks to those who provided assistance :)  
**


	4. Chapter 4

_Useless. Good for nothing. Intolerable. Deplorable. Waste of space._

The words repeated over and over again in Katniss' head, each one laced with disdain and anger. Never, in her life, had she had words directed at her with such venom and intent. She really couldn't blame the Duchess though. She had a right, after Katniss had so obviously failed at her task, making a fool of herself, and the Duchess in the process. Every pair of eyes in that parlour had swung towards her the minute the platter had hit the ground. There had been giggles, glares, shocked gasps – but what had burned more than any other response had been the blatant _pity _in some of their eyes.

She'd as calmly as possible knelt to the floor, picked up each item of food that had tumbled gracelessly onto the heavily carpeted surface and placed them back on the silver platter that had, surprisingly, landed face up. She'd done so to silence, not a single sound abounding throughout the room. The only sound she could hear was the pounding of her heart in her ears, thudding louder and louder as time wore on. She'd risen, head held high, and moved from the room, down the hallways, back into the kitchen, setting the tray on the table. Both Ms Trinket and Sae had looked at her, sadness and disappointment etched clearly on their faces.

It was quite obvious the news had already made it back to the rest of the staff.

Katniss hadn't stopped her tasks though, and had continued to assist Sae throughout the rest of the afternoon. It helped take her mind off the obvious fact that as of this afternoon, she would no longer be employed at Chatsworth house. The Duchess would not be willing to overlook such an obvious misstep.

The moment the last guest had departed, she'd been summoned to the parlour, Ms Trinket leading the way. She'd stood, hands folded submissively at the waist, as the Duchess took her to task for her actions, insults raging. The Duchess' face had coloured to a flaming crimson, the carefully styled curls that framed her face springing up and down every time she reminded Katniss of her incompetence. This woman was far removed from the polished, even tempered Duchess Katniss had encountered on every other occasion she had met with her, and she supposed, really, that this was a true indication as to her character.

Finally she'd been dismissed, sent to her quarters to collect her belongings and be on her way. _Chatsworth House no longer required her substandard services._

She'd silently nodded her head, trying steadfastly to hold back the tears that were burning the back of her eyes and causing her throat to ache. She'd failed. Failed in everything she had promised Mother and Prim she would do. To make them proud, to make their lives more comfortable.

It had not been until she was safely in her room that the tears had flowed, unbidden, down her cheeks, sliding down her throat and dampening the collar of her dress. Katniss had dragged her small bag from under the bed, and begun throwing her few belongings into it. She was leaving with nothing more than she had arrived with. In fact, she was leaving with even less than she had brought with her. Her pride had been shattered and she had known, without a doubt, that she was leaving part of her heart behind. Because the Duchess' words had made her acknowledge that perhaps she'd given her heart to Master Peeta that day in the woods, and there was no way she could retrieve it. It was lost, gone. Perhaps forever.

Not that it mattered to him, she'd thought bitterly, and had thrown herself on the bed, staring blankly at the ceiling. All along he'd been planning to marry Lady Delilah, probably had looked at Katniss as nothing more than a distraction to ease his aching loins until he could take his _prim and proper and suitable_ wife to bed. As a member of the gentry, he would be so used to getting what he wanted, when he wanted, that he would have expected her to simply fall in line. And her traitorous heart had almost, _almost,_ given in. Her anger at him, at the Duchess, at Lady Delilah, at _herself_, and the tears that had refused to abate, had drawn a headache that would not fade and she'd eventually succumbed to sleep.

* * *

The sharp rapping on her door broke her out of her slumber, and she shot up, swallowing heavily. They were here for her, to take her away.

"Miss Everdeen, it's Ms Trinket. Please open your door." The voice came through, slightly muffled, and Katniss slowly moved over to open it. Ms Trinket took in the red-rimmed eyes, tear stained cheeks and sleep mussed hair and sighed, stepping inside and closing the door at her back. She smoothed a hand across the nape of her neck, as if to tame an errant hair that both she and Katniss knew didn't exist.

"I-I'm ready to leave," Katniss started softly. "I'm terribly sorry for all the trouble I've caused."

Ms Trinket nodded. "Yes, well, Miss Everdeen, you did cause a spectacle of yourself. It caused quite an embarrassment for the Duchess. It was all her guests could speak of for the rest of the event." Katniss face flushed. She hated being the centre of attention when she was _in_ a room, let alone when she wasn't there.

"Yes Ms Trinket. I am sincerely sorry that I have disappointed you, and the faith that you placed in me because of your friendship with my mother."

The housekeeper made a noise of dismissal, and folded her arms. "Nonsense. You earned your position here, Miss Everdeen, regardless of Mrs Everdeen. As I suspect you will continue to do so."

Katniss' brow furrowed in confusion as she stared at the housekeeper. "I beg your pardon, Ms Trinket? I'm afraid I don't understand."

"It took quite a bit of convincing on the Duchess' part. But I appealed to her on the basis that, coming in to such a busy season, that we do not have the time to look for a suitable replacement, nor do we know of anyone who would be available to come to Chatsworth on such short notice. The Duchess and I have come to an agreement, and therefore you shall be remaining under employment here. There were some stipulations, however. You are no longer required to assist with serving during events that the Duchess hosts – which I am aware would not cause you much consternation. You will be restricted to working with Sae all of next week to ensure your skills in the handling and preparation of meals is more satisfactory. You will also be docked your pay for today, and for this weekend." Katniss jaw dropped open.

"But, Ms Trinket, this is the weekend I visit with my family. I am not required to work…." She trailed off as Ms Trinket nodded curtly.

"That is correct, Miss Everdeen, you were not required to work this weekend, nor has this changed. However, the Duchess does not know that, and it best that she not be made aware." Katniss watched as the housekeepers face softened, a faint smile curving her lips. "While you do have a lot to learn, the impact you have had in creating an efficient team with Miss Mason and Miss Undersee more than overshadows what happened this afternoon. The Duchess and I disagree on many points, Miss Everdeen, and her dismissal of you is one of them. However, I know that a few carefully placed words to her can certainly inspire a change of heart on some matters. Advising that it would be near impossible to find a replacement, along with reminding her that Master Peeta's impending marriage is going to be far more of a lingering topic amongst her guests than a simple blunder by a housemaid, encouraged her to agree to my proposal. Prove me right, Miss Everdeen, for the Duchess will not allow you a second chance." Her gaze slid to the case sitting on Katniss' bed and folded her hands in front of her. "Mr Hawthorne is preparing the carriage now to take you to the station, ready for the 6pm train, and he will be there at 5pm Sunday afternoon to retrieve you. Enjoy your weekend, Miss Everdeen. And please give my regards to your mother."

* * *

An hour later, Katniss moved from her room, still in a state of shock. _She was still employed. Ms Trinket had stood up for her, had taken a chance on her. _There was no way she was going to let that faith go to waste.

Now, though, came the realisation that she would be remaining at Chatsworth, and would be here when Master Peeta brought his new wife home. It made her heart ache and her jaw clench at the same time. This was one of the exact reasons she had always refused to let anyone in, and was one of many reasons she knew she had needed to avoid Master Peeta. Having feelings for him had made her weak, distracted, and had affected her work. She resolved to block her feelings out – no matter how much it may hurt to see him with Lady Delilah, she had to accept it, move on and continue to focus on her work. _That _was what was important. Not the ridiculous fluttering she got around her heart when he was near, not the preposterous dreams she had where he always featured, not the ache that had set deep in her bones the minute the Duchess had spoken of his engagement. She could not afford to do anything that would jeopardise her position now.

She shook her head as if to clear it of her thoughts, and moved out of the staff entrance to see Gale waiting for her, hat in hand. Behind him, she could see grey clouds gathering in the distance, rolling towards them slowly. Rain was ahead.

"I'm sorry to keep you waiting," she started, and he brushed it off with a flick of his hand.

"You didn't, Katniss. I just brought the carriage around now. I, uh, heard about this afternoon. Sorry." Katniss shrugged, a habit she'd broken a long time ago that reared its head whenever she was emotionally drained.

"The important thing is that I kept my position here," she replied. "But it does mean I have to be on my best behaviour."

"Well, I'm glad you'll be sticking around. You're a good influence on Jo," he grinned ruefully, and she couldn't help but smile.

"I highly doubt anyone could be a good influence on Johanna. But thank you, Gale," she said softly, as he placed his hat firmly on his head.

"Thanks are not necessary," he replied. She still didn't know the man well enough, but she sensed, in many ways, that their thoughts and opinions may very well be similar to each other's. There was something in his eyes, as if there was something he wasn't saying, but she couldn't determine what it was, and didn't wish to linger on it. Now, she simply wanted to return home.

She averted her gaze, keeping it locked firmly on the tips of her shoes, and stepped up into the carriage, pulling the door shut behind her. She hoped that they made it to the train station - and for Gale to make it back to Chatsworth - before the rain arrived. She knew the muddied roads would play havoc with the wheels of the carriage, and would more than likely result in it becoming bogged.

She sat her bag on the seat and settled in beside it, smoothing her skirts over her knees. The dark interior of the cabin matched her mood perfectly. The curtains across the windows had been drawn and she had no desire to open them. She preferred, in this instance, to be cut off from everything. She closed her eyes, resting her head against the padded wall behind her, and felt the sway of the carriage as it began to make its way down the drive.

"Hello Miss Everdeen," the silky smooth voice came out of the darkness. Her eyes flew open in shock, and she couldn't stop the frightened yelp that fell from her lips. Her hand reached out blindly towards the curtain closest to her, and she yanked it open. Fading light spilled in, highlighting the man sitting in the opposite corner to her.

"Master Peeta, _what_ are you doing here?" she demanded. She knew her voice was a little shrill, but it couldn't be helped. She didn't want to see him. Couldn't see him, not with what had happened, _what she now knew_.

"I request but a moment of your time," he said simply, leaning forward and resting his forearms on his bent knees. "And please, I've already told you to simply call me Peeta."

"It is highly improper for you to be in here," Katniss hissed. "How did you elude Gale and make your way into the carriage?"

The laugh that rolled out of him was anything but proper. "Gale knows that I am here."

"He what?" Her mouth dropped open. "Does he know what trouble he will be in?"

"With who?" Peeta spread his hands out and shrugged. "Who is aware of me being here but the three of us? I will not say anything, nor will Gale, and I highly doubt you will." Katniss glared at him and crossed her arms firmly across her chest.

"Well, what is it you require a moment of my time for?" She said bluntly, not caring if he found her abrupt and abrasive. She could not find it in herself to be any lighter of tone.

"What do you think?" he replied softly, leaning back in the seat and resting his palms on either side of him, stretching out his legs to cross his feet at the ankles. It was a relaxed and casual pose, and certainly not one suitable for just their company. The toe of his boot tapped against her foot, and she swiftly moved her feet away to the side, out of his reach.

_I knew it, she thought angrily. _"I hardly think that is appropriate," Katniss replied indignantly. "I have already made it clear, sir, that nought will occur between us, and I refuse to be accosted now on such a journey. How dare you have the nerve to proposition-"

Peeta sat up straight, his eyes wide and pleading. "Miss Everdeen, please, please I did not mean to say the words as they may have sounded! All I request is a moment of your time. To speak with you and to learn more of you. And I would like for you to learn more of me."

Katniss eyed him suspiciously, if not a little bitterly. "If the Duchess-" she started, but Peeta laughed mirthlessly.

"I could care less about my mother, nor, really, does she care about me. I am aware of what happened today, Miss Everdeen, although that is not why I am here, nor why I wish to speak with you. I thought by now I would have made my feelings clear."

Katniss couldn't help the way her lip curled. "Your feelings? Whatever for? So you have a way to occupy your time before you wed Lady Delilah? I hardly think-" She broke off as Peeta sat forward in his seat, his eyes narrowed.

"What did you say?" he demanded, his voice laced with lightly veiled frustration.

"I hardly think you misunderstood me, Master Peeta, but to confirm, I will not be a way for you to pass the time until you and Lady Delilah wed." Even saying the words now caused a flutter in her stomach, one that made her feel ill, and slightly light headed. She watched as Peeta's eyes turned glacial, his eyebrow rising in question.

"And where, pray tell, would you have heard something like that? I can't fathom that you would listen to idle household gossip."

"It was hardly household gossip, Master Peeta. I heard the words from the mouth of the Duchess herself. And I would not consider branding her a liar." She watched as he let out a deep breath, shaking his head.

"What you speak of now makes sense. And I certainly do not have a doubt that my mother would have said this. But now it is _how _you heard it that interests me."

Katniss looked away, out the small sliver of window that she'd uncovered. The clouds were still rolling in, but didn't look close enough that they would affect the remainder of their journey. She simply had to get to the train station – surely it was only a matter of 20 minutes away now – then she could be free of Master Peeta and this conversation.

"Miss Everdeen?" he asked, breaking the silence.

"She spoke of it this afternoon, at the tea she was hosting," she finally replied. "The Duchess made it clear that you would be wed by Christmas." Peeta watched her carefully for a moment, and she shifted uncomfortably under his scrutiny. She watched as realisation dawned on his face and he moved to sit next to her, placing her bag on the floor by their feet.

"Did you not care for that news, Katniss?" he asked softly. She could not be bothered reprimanding him on the use of her Christian name.

"It does not matter what I think," she replied forcefully. "Who you choose to marry and how you conduct yourself is your business, though now I find your actions these past weeks even more inappropriate." She turned away, eyes fixed firmly on the gap between the two curtains.

"I'm not marrying Delilah," Peeta stated firmly.

Katniss hated the way her heart leapt at his words, and banked down the emotions that welled inside of her. She steeled herself, thankful she was looking away from him. "Well, I am quite sure the Duchess will be unimpressed with that sudden turn of events." She gasped as Peeta's hand rested gently on her shoulder, turning her to face him.

"I'm not marrying Delilah," he repeated. "There never was a wedding, nor will there ever be. The Lady Delilah should be announcing her engagement to Viscount Thompson any day now. The Duchess is speaking of things she has no confirmation of or basis for. The fact that she was sprouting it in front of…" Peeta trailed off, and he rubbed his jaw thoughtfully with his free hand. His eyes gleamed. "You heard what the Duchess spoke of first hand?"

"Yes." She couldn't help the fact that her teeth grit together.

"And today you were reprimanded for dropping a platter of sweets on the ground at this event, in front of everyone…and in particular, in close proximity to the Duchess."

"Correct," Katniss sighed, closing her eyes. She hated being reminded of it.

"You heard her speak of my engagement, and you were jealous," he stated. Her eyes flew open at his words, and she glared at him, shifting so that his hand fell from her shoulder onto the padded seat below.

"Master Peeta, I do believe you have severely over-stepped your mark," Katniss muttered bitterly, for inside she knew he was 100% correct. Her words didn't alter his expression, other than the wide, charming smile that curved across his face.

"You _were_ jealous, Miss Everdeen, and I do not see a problem with this. All you have to do is admit that you were jealous, and I will leave you be."

"Fine," she huffed. "But I was not jealous for whatever reason you seem to think I am. Only because of…."

"Because of what?" He prompted. The smile had yet to fall from his face. She detested his smile, his eyes, loathed the way his hair curled a little unruly over his ears and how the jacket he wore fitted over his broad shoulders perfectly. More than anything, though, it burned that one day he was going to be someone else's, even if it wasn't Lady Delilah. She shook her head forcefully.

"It does not matter. Let us leave this be. Fine, you are not marrying Lady Delilah. Thank you for providing clarification on the matter." She reached for the bag that Peeta had moved to the floor, but Peeta's hand stopped her, resting it gently on hers. Her eyes flickered to him, and she opened her mouth, prepared to tell him precisely what he could do with his hand.

"Don't say anything, Katniss, please. It doesn't matter what the Duchess said, or what she believes will happen. I simply cannot release you from my thoughts. Why do you think that is?" She looked at their hands, his creamy, smooth and elegant, though surprisingly strong. Hers, dusky from a heritage she did not even know of, worn and dry from too many hours cleaning and dusting and labouring. They shouldn't have looked so right together. But they did.

"I do not know," she finally said softly, her free hand balled up and kneading the fabric of her skirt. "But you should stop. You _need_ to stop, Master Peeta. I must maintain my employment at Chatsworth House for more reasons than you will ever understand. I cannot get into any more trouble after today. And this, what you're trying to do…it will cause me nothing but trouble. I've already told you of this. Perhaps….perhaps it would have been better for us all if you _were_ betrothed to Lady Delilah." He shook his head, and went to open his mouth, but the carriage jerked to a halt, effectively stopping him at whatever he would have said. Katniss breathed a sigh of relief and peered out the window at the train platform, noting the dark grey clouds had settled low in the sky and knew it wouldn't take long for them to break apart. The quicker she moved from the carriage, the sooner Gale could begin the journey back to Chatsworth and take Master Peeta with him.

She wrenched her hand from his, and gripped the handle of her bag. "Good evening, Master Peeta. Safe journey back to Chatsworth." She opened the door, and stepped from the carriage without a second glance.

* * *

Peeta glared out the carriage window, as Gale tried to return home as quickly as possible. It seemed like nothing he could do, or say, was right for Katniss, even when he was practically pouring his heart out to her. The chaps back at Cambridge had always joked with him that he was too romantic for his own good, with his love of poetry and desire not to marry simply because he was _forced _to. He didn't see it as romantic. He saw it as…right. He saw his desire to marry for love as something he, and his future wife, deserved. A loveless marriage just for the sake of marriage had never done anyone an ounce of good, from what he had been privy to in his lifetime.

As for the poetry….well, he could only blame his childhood nanny for that.

But it ached, it _ached_, that he had found the person he finally thought he could love, and they seemed intent on driving him away. Every chance he tried, she spurned his advances.

He knew he should not have expected anything less from her today, after all that she had experienced. He knew firsthand the way a tongue lashing from the Duchess could proceed, and the added worry of losing her position would have certainly weighed heavily on Katniss. But once Haymitch had informed him that her position, and employment, remained, he thought she would be less impartial, perhaps even happy for once. He had leapt at the chance to travel in the carriage with her, if but for a short amount of time, to be afforded some privacy.

He hadn't been expecting the unsettling news of the Duchess' announcement. And now vaguely wondered why none of the staff had informed him of what she had said. Then, at least, he would have been prepared for Katniss to denounce him so quickly.

The first item of business when he returned to Chatsworth was a discussion with his mother, and inform her for the final time that he and Delilah would not be wed. Then, he would determine the best way to break down the barriers around Katniss' heart. He felt like every time they parted, they had taken two steps back, and he had to determine how to win her all over again

Peeta, future Duke of Devonshire, was nothing if persistent.

* * *

She rested her hands on the ledge of the countertop and stared out the window, the only sign of her anxiousness the whiteness of her knuckles, the skin so pale, almost translucent. She watched as leaves skittered across the ground, and the wind tore the delicate petals from the lovingly cultivated roses in the garden. She watched as the carriage made its final turn into the drive, coming to a stop outside the staff entrance, and sighed as she watched Master Peeta step out. She vaguely wondered if she'd made the right decision this afternoon. She'd known it the minute she'd mentioned the engagement, and watched the colour lynch from the young woman's' cheeks.

She felt, rather than heard, him enter the room and pause beside her. They'd been in sync with each other for so long it wasn't hard for them to read the others' mood.

"A storm is coming," she finally said softly. He looked out the window, at the foreboding dark clouds that had finally arrived from the west and shrugged.

"That's pretty bloody obvious," he grunted. She sighed, almost imperceptibly.

"That's not that one I'm talking about, Haymitch," Effie replied. "We have one much closer to home."

* * *

**A/N - Thank you so much for reviews, follows, favourites. They are very much appreciated, and have certainly helped overcome the writers block that settled in.**

**Thanks to maltease and salanderjade for giving me their thoughts prior to posting :)**


	5. Chapter 5

Peeta moved from the carriage, brushing at the sleeves of his jacket. He was tired, and his head ached. He wanted to head straight to the Duchess, to demand answers, but he knew he was not at his best. It would probably be preferable for him to wait for the morning, when he was refreshed – and he had the opportunity to ruin his mothers' _entire_ day, he smirked to himself, as he closed the door behind him. He thanked Gale, but did not linger, so that the other man could return to the carriage house before the clouds opened. He breathed in deep, inhaling the brisk air that held a hint of rain and the promise of a storm. If thunder cracked throughout the night, it would match his bordering-on-melancholy mood perfectly. Peeta began to walk the stony path around to the front entrance as the first drops of water fell from the sky, and then sighed, resigned, as Haymitch rounded the corner. He should have known the old man would have seen him exit the carriage.

"You," Haymitch pointed at him almost viciously, and tipped his head back towards the staff entrance. "Go to my quarters. Now. We need to talk."

Peeta shot the cuffs of his jacket, raising his eyebrow. "Is that really an appropriate way to speak to me, Abernathy?" He retorted.

Haymitch snorted. "Don't give me that, boy. It's more bloody appropriate than the stunt you just pulled. Now go. No-one else needs to hear this." They glared at each other, a battle of wills, Haymitch's grey eyes and sarcastic scowl matching Peeta's brooding blue and set jaw. It wasn't the first time, nor would it be the last, that they stood in front of each other like this.

Finally Peeta blew out a deep breath and moved back around to the entry. He led the way down the corridor, making his way to the rooms he'd snuck into as a small boy to hide from the Duchess, and later, to talk whisky and horses and women. Haymitch, much like Effie, had a room that afforded him more privacy than the other household staff. Walls painted a pale cream, worn wooden floors covered by a threadbare rug the colour of moss. A wide fireplace, already prepared but not lit, the ashy remnants of its last fire still visible on the floor. An aged but comfortable armchair sat next to it, by a small wooden side table that held a lamp, a decanter Haymitch had obviously pilfered from the kitchen and a thick book, its spine cracked and peeling. Peeta couldn't see the title, but was slightly surprised to see it there. Haymitch had never been one for reading.

He heard the door close behind him, and he slowly turned to face Haymitch. "Well?"

"Don't 'well' me," came Haymitch's retort. "You know exactly what I pulled you in here for boy, and it's better that it's me who does it now, than someone like the bloody Duchess later." He moved past Peeta, snatching up the decanter and pouring a generous swallow into the glass sitting beside it. He didn't offer any to Peeta. "It was endearing at first, you having a little crush on the girl. I probably should have warned you off when you kept asking after her, kept talking about her, but I just figured you were thinking with your dick, and it would end soon enough." Peeta winced at the crude words – even after all this time, sometimes Haymitch's loose and carefree manner of speaking was less than desirable – and leant against the wall. "Especially after she turned you down in the kitchen the other night. I know she hurt you with that, boy, and part of me was disappointed in her for that. But she was doing the right thing. Now, though, you have to up and sneak off into her carriage today. What if anyone else other than Effie and I had noticed?"

"Effie saw as well?" Peeta asked, and he bit his lip nervously. Haymitch was one thing. Effie with her no-nonsense manners was another.

"Yeah, kid, she did. She's nervous now, because she fought for that girl to stay here, to keep her position. She had no idea about any of this. I certainly hadn't told her, because stupid me didn't think it would be an issue." He huffed out a breath, and lifted the glass to his lips, not even stopping to appreciate the burn of liquor down his throat. He cursed himself for not seeing how serious the kid really was.

Peeta sighed, lifting a hand in supplication. "I'm sorry. But there is something about Kat - Miss Everdeen, something I simply cannot ignore. My thoughts are full of her. I've never met anyone like her, and I don't believe I ever will again. I don't know what it is, but….it leaves me wanting more. It leaves me wanting _her_. For everything."

Haymitch shook his head, his chuckle almost sarcastic. "Oh, my boy, you have no idea, do you? The world handed to you on a silver platter, and you think that can extend to something like this. I told her not to hurt you, because I know you have a soft heart. But with your unrepentant advances, you might get hurt yourself. Peeta, you can't always obtain the things you want. Granted, a man of your station normally does. But I don't think it's going to happen in this instance. Unless you're happy just to get your hand in her drawers. Which I doubt."

Peeta blushed. "It's more than that, Haymitch, and you know that. And I don't see why it cannot happen. We've always spoken of my wishes to marry someone I love, to spend my life with someone that I chose myself, not to whom I was dictated to marry. And you always encouraged those wishes. Even through your taunts and mockery, you always stood for me."

"Marry? _Marry?_" Haymitch snorted. "Now I know there's something wrong with you. You're the future Duke of this estate, Peeta. You have obligations to adhere to, traditions to uphold. Yes, I always encouraged you when you spoke of things like that. Expecting it to be Lady Delilah. Or even, God forbid, Lady Cassandra. At least I knew you'd never be thick enough to settle for Lady Anabelle. But good lord, Peeta. A housemaid? Your grandfather would turn in his grave, rest his soul."

Peeta shrugged. "You know I could care nothing for social conventions. Look at the two people I spend most of time with when on leave from Cambridge. You and Gale." He was surprised when Haymitch's voice lowered to a growl and his eyes narrowed.

"Yes, when you're on leave from _Cambridge_. Consider that for a moment. You're not only a future Duke, but you're attending the best university in the country. What more do I have to bloody say to you for you to realise that this is not a good idea? Katniss already knows it."

"It does not matter. I know she has feelings for me, and I shall not change my mind," the young man replied stubbornly, folding his arms across his chest. He tried to ignore the inkling of panic that trickled down his spine.

"Then you're a bloody idiot, Peeta." Haymitch slammed the glass on the small ledge above the fireplace and turned to face the young man standing indignantly in front of him. "Do you even understand what your actions could do, what they could cause? She's got a hell of a lot to lose if she decides to play patty cake with you, boy."

Peeta glared at the man who had been more of a father to him than his own flesh and blood, and knew, deep in his bones, that Haymitch was right. He just wasn't ready to accept it yet.

"I don't know if she made you aware of this of this on your little carriage ride, but one more step out of line, and she loses her position here at Chatsworth. That does not just affect her, but her family as well."

"She did advise me she could not afford to get into any more trouble," Peeta started, but Haymitch cut him off.

"Exactly. One more incident, and she leaves Chatsworth for good. No second chances." He watched the colour drain from Peeta's face, and nodded. "Are you even aware that she is the sole provider for her family? That all of her earnings are sent directly to them?"

"No. No, I had no clue. I just assumed….."

"Well, perhaps it is time you found out more about your sweetheart so you can understand why she's making the decisions she is. It's not my intention to end your dreams of happily ever after, Peeta. You know, of anyone in this house, your interests are the ones I care for the most. I just need to make you aware that there may be consequences if you pursue this. Consequences that affect everyone. You just need to think very carefully about what you want. And what could happen if you do get it."

Peeta nodded and gently rubbed a hand across his chest, where his heart had begun to thud almost painfully. Haymitch was right. He didn't know nearly enough about her. Love at first sight was one thing. Now he needed to know her, become friends with her. Because it would truly be the only way to convince her to be with him. The social contrivances that held them apart meant nothing. Katniss, to him, was the far greater challenge.

* * *

Peeta did not get the opportunity to seek the Duchess out the following day, for she was quick to find him. He'd slept late, thoughts of Katniss keeping him awake far into the early hours of the morning. He had a vague recollection of the door to his room opening not long past dawn, and a head peering in, but whoever the person was, they had not disturbed him.

The Duchess, however, did not believe in such niceties.

The covers were thrown off him forcefully, and his eyes flew open at the sudden removal of downy warmth. He scrambled back so that he was leaning against the headboard, but was quickly swatted across the head with a sheaf of paper, then stunned by a sharp hand across his cheek. His mouth dropped open as he glanced up at his mother in shock. She was already dressed completely for her day ahead – pale lavender gown trimmed in a thin edge of velvet, gems glittering at her throat, wrist and ears. The Duchess was never anything but completely prepared for the right occasion.

"So help me, Peeta, you have made me to look a proper fool!" She crowed, not worried about raising her voice, nor the way her face was practically purple with rage. "We received notice this morning of Lady Delilah's engagement to Viscount Thompson. Viscount Thompson, Peeta,_ not you!_ I practically announced your engagement yesterday at the afternoon tea!"

Peeta pulled himself across the mattress, shifting off the other side of the bed, and grabbed the long, burgundy dressing gown that had been laid across the foot of his bed. He belted it across his waist, and turned back to face his mother, disdain already lacing his words.

"It is not my actions that have caused your embarrassment, mother. I quite clearly told you on the way home from our last evening at the Cartwright estate that there was nothing between us. You chose not to listen."

Duchess Mary huffed angrily and stalked from the other side of the bed, stopping directly in front of him, her finger pushing angrily into his chest. "It was your _duty_ to marry Lady Delilah, and you let her slip through your fingers. I cannot believe the _embarrassment_ you have brought to your family by allowing her to marry _that man_." Peeta rolled his eyes – for reasons beyond his own comprehension, the Duchess had never had a kind word to say of the Viscount. "And now, on top of that incompetent maid ruining my afternoon tea, I will have to explain to everyone who was here why Chatsworth House will not be hosting a wedding here this Christmas."

Peeta pushed a hand through his already sleep-dishevelled hair, breathing in deeply. "Well, mother, at least you now know why the Cartwrights weren't able to attend your little gathering, and that it wasn't a _personal slight_ on you. They had far more important and pressing matters to attend to." He emphasised the words she had uttered for hours on end when word had come prior to the afternoon tea that Lady Delilah would not be attending. It made perfect sense to him now, and he had to hold back the smile that threatened to break out across his face. _Nice work, Delly,_ he thought to himself.

"It is _worse _than a personal slight. We have all been publically humiliated now, no thanks to your incessant dilly-dallying and refusal to settle down." Her tone continued to rise, until she was more shouting at him than speaking to him.

He didn't blink, for by now he was used to her words. "It is not a refusal to settle down, mother, and you are fully aware of that. Now, you've spoken the words you have needed to say. In return, I remind you that I am an adult, fully capable of making my own decisions of to whom I will marry and when. Not a day sooner or a day later. I will not marry simply to meet your quotient of heirs. Nor will I accept you announcing statuses such as engagements without my knowledge. You have no one to blame but yourself here, and I bid you now leave me be." He watched as her mouth opened and closed – not dissimilar to the fish he fished from the Tideway back at Cambridge – her eyes fluttering in shock at his firm dismissal. "Now, mother. I have no more desire to speak with you at this moment." He walked away from her, over to the windows he'd taken to spending far too much time staring out of. He heard her sharp intake of breath, the thump of something hard against his back, then the sharp, angry sounds of footsteps. His door opened and closed with a bang.

Turning, he glanced down at the floor, to see the useless statuary his own mother had thrown at his back. It hadn't hurt so much as the action itself had stung. But that, too, shouldn't have been anything that surprised him. But he did not wish to linger on it. The words Haymitch had spoken yesterday and this own realisations he had come to overnight, bore more importance. With a resolute, almost infantile kick to the statue at his feet, he turned on his heel towards his dressing room. He had a plan to implement.

* * *

Katniss lay on her back, eyes closed against the bright afternoon sunshine. The grass was soft - if a little damp - beneath her back, and the slight breeze gentle against her skin. The rain the night before had left behind a freshness in the air that seemed to intensify the smell of the grass, the scent of the wildflowers.

Oh, how she had missed home.

She trailed her hand through the long length of her younger sisters' hair, whose head rested on Katniss' belly, and tugged at the ends. Prim giggled, swatting at her hand.

"Ouch, Kat! You always do that. Thank goodness mother is the one who brushes the knots from my hair now," Prim admonished, but it was edged with a sense of playfulness that Katniss had missed. Jo's constant bickering and Madge's quiet serenity came nothing close to the soothing nature of Prim's that smoothed Katniss' edges.

"Yes, good thing it is, too," Katniss replied, "For your hair is far too long and would certainly be an annoyance to brush." She tried to keep her voice level and straight, but she knew it would be to no avail the minute Prim turned and-

"Ahhhh!" Katniss squealed – there really was no other way to describe it – as Prim dug her fingers into her lower ribcage, tickling her. "Ah, Prim, stop! Ahhhhh!" She descended into indiscernible giggles, squirming and shifting until tears began streaming down her face. Prim finally stopped, and Katniss opened her eyes to see the younger girl kneeling beside her, hand covering her mouth as silent laughter shook her body.

"Oh, Katniss, you should have known I would do that," Prim reminded her, almost endearingly.

"I know," Katniss admitted, sitting up and straightening the bodice of her simple cotton dress. She shifted so that her legs were tucked up beside her, and smoothed her skirts. "But I couldn't help myself."

Prim slipped her braid over her shoulder, and pulled her knees up, wrapping her arms around them. "Well, it's nice to see you smile. You didn't look happy when you arrived last night, nor this morning. I wanted to ask you, but wanted to wait until Mother wasn't with us. Is everything alright? Are you enjoying your work?"

Katniss felt her own smile falter, and she looked down at her hands. "Yes. Chatsworth House is lovely, and I've met some wonderful people. It is a very good position, and I'm very thankful to Ms Trinket for offering it to me when she visited us."

Prim pursed her lips. "That's good, but is everything alright?" She repeated, zoning in on the question Katniss hadn't answered.

"Everything is fine, Prim," Katniss replied, trying to keep her voice steady.

"Are you not agreeing with someone? Are you finding the work difficult?" Prim pushed on, for it didn't matter _what _Katniss was saying, it was _how_ she was saying it that spoke volumes.

Katniss sighed and looked across the field towards her home. It was by no means stately, far from it, but neither was it downtrodden or in disrepair. It had been in her mothers' family for many years, and Alice Everdeen had spent her childhood years growing up in the small, simple stone two-story structure. She had inherited the house upon the death of her parents, continuing to live there with her own family. A small financial sum had also been bequeathed to her, supplementing year on year the small stipend that James Everdeen had earned.

Following his death, their situation had grown dire, and Katniss had been certain that they would have to sell the only home any of them had ever known. She had taken up hunting - something she had done with her father as more of a hobby than anything - to ensure they were fed, and had traded some of her game with the local baker to obtain any additional funds she could. Then Ms Trinket had visited, quite out of the blue, wishing to reacquaint herself with Alice. Almost as if she had sensed their need, she had immediately offered the position available at Chatsworth to Katniss. Ms Trinket had left that weekend, quite possibly not realising what she simply saw as nothing more a kind gesture, would in fact save the family and their home. What Katniss earned in her position was not much, but it helped her family meet their needs.

"The work is fine, Prim," Katniss said quietly. "It is good, honest work. And, while not you, Madge and Jo are good in keeping me company."

"Katniss, do not make a mockery of me. You are not your usual self," Prim replied firmly.

Katniss plucked at the blades of grass beside her knees and bit her lip. Finally she sighed, knowing she wouldn't be able to hold out for long. "I came into….association with a young gentleman, Prim," she finally whispered. She watched as Prim's eyes lit up and a smile lit her face.

"Oh my goodness, Katniss, why ever did you wait so long to tell me? This is thrilling news! Did he not have this weekend off from his duties? Oh, you should have brought him to visit with mother and I!"

Katniss shook her head. "He won't ever come here to meet with you Prim. Nor shall anything ever come of this. You know how I feel about marriage." She hoped if she used her ambivalence towards marriage as her reasoning, she could avoid listing the multitude of reasons why Master Peeta would never meet her family.

"Oh, that is ridiculous, Katniss. Surely you recognise how silly it is that you continue to insist on this opinion you have of marriage. Love is a wonderful thing to have, and you should not just throw it away."

"You can't throw something away if you don't have it to start with," Katniss replied. "I will admit there is a man at Chatsworth who I felt something for. But it was for nought. Nothing will happen. My focus is my work, and ensuring you and mother are looked after."

Prim dropped her head to her knees dramatically, before looking back up at her sister. "Katniss, you cannot tell me something like this, and then say nothing more of this man, or tell me nothing will ever become of this? Your pride and stubbornness will be your downfall."

"It is not me being _prideful_ or _stubborn_," Katniss practically hissed in reply. "It is about me, ensuring that our family can continue to live here, so that we're not forced out of our home. It is about me, ensuring that no-one makes an error that cannot be undone. It is about me….and making sure that those around me are not hurt." Her voice slowly dropped to a whisper by the end, and Prim's eyes were as wide as saucers.

"What aren't you telling me?" she whispered, grasping Katniss' hand in hers and twisting their fingers together. "What are you keeping from me?"

Katniss squeezed her fingers tightly around Prim's. "Nothing, little duck, there is nothing. Let's leave it, please. And enjoy our time together." She rose to her feet, tugging Prim up after her. "Now, come, show me this kitten you have found and plead your case to me to keep it." She felt a partial sense of relief that she had been able to at least speak of Peeta, and acknowledge her feelings, while keeping it from those back at the estate. However mostly, what she tried to push down, deep inside, was an overwhelming sense of sadness.

But that was fine, and appropriate, because the decisions she was making were the best for everyone involved.

The remainder of the weekend moved quickly, and Katniss soon found herself returning to Chatsworth. Thankfully, the carriage had been empty but for her on this trip, and neither she nor Gale made mention of Peeta. His inability to look her in the eye, though, spoke volumes, and she hoped he felt guilty for the actions of the Friday afternoon carriage ride.

She didn't waste time in returning to her room, wanting to do nothing but rest her eyes until supper. She managed to move through the halls undetected, and breathed a sigh of relief as she reached the sanctuary of her room without having to utter a word. She closed the heavy wooden door as quietly as she could, and placed her case at the end of the bed, sinking into the thin mattress. Despite not working over the last two days, the fresh air and the sheer enthusiasm of Prim had exhausted her.

Katniss slid to the side, laying her head on the pillow, if to only close her eyes for a moment. The fabric was cool and soft, but a sharp edge pinched her cheek. She reached a hand up to the pillow, to straighten it, when she realised that there was more there than just her pillow. She raised her head to see a thick, cream coloured envelope situated in the centre, with her name in beautifully written, careful script across the front. Her heart thudded as she lifted it, sliding her finger along the flap and opening it slowly.

The sheaf of paper inside was smooth to touch, and the cursive script elegant but bold. Her eyes were drawn immediately to the bottom of the page, and though she shouldn't have been surprised, her pulse leapt.

It was from Peeta.

* * *

**A/N - Thank you very much for all follows, favourites and reviews. I appreciate every single one of them.**

**Special thanks this chapter to Ro Nordmann for creating the wonderful cover art for this story, and maltease for being kind enough to request it to surprise me :)**


	6. Chapter 6

Katniss sat on her bed with her back against the wall, Madge curled up beside her, while Johanna leant against the wall, trying – but failing miserably – to seem uninterested. Her hands twisted in her lap, her fingers twining together nervously. Ever since she'd read the letter upon her return, she'd been in a dazed state. Her immediate thoughts to rest, to sleep, had fled. She'd done nothing but read the letter over and over again, trying to determine if the simple words were really as simple as they seemed, or if they meant so much more. She still hadn't completely decided.

She'd hardly touched the food Sae provided when she'd ventured out for supper, and Johanna had known immediately that something was wrong. "Time to share, Katniss," She'd demanded the minute they'd left the kitchen. Katniss had spluttered and coughed and begged off that anything was wrong, until Johanna had glared at her, dragged her – and a bewildered Madge – into Katniss' room, and said in no uncertain terms she wanted to know what was going on –or else. And while Katniss wasn't intimidated by Johanna, she was by the letter. So she'd pulled it from her pocket reluctantly, showing the perfectly scripted letter to the two girls. Johanna had been – apparently - bitterly disappointed that that was all it had been.

Madge sighed, and handed the letter back to Katniss, who clutched it in her lap. "It's such a beautifully written letter, Katniss," she said wistfully. Jo rolled her eyes.

"You're right, it is beautiful," Katniss agreed. "But in all honesty, I do not believe anything good can come of this."

"Understatement," Jo scoffed, pretending to study her nails. That alone gave her apparent uninterest away.

"What will you do?" Madge's voice was barely above a whisper, her eyes wide and unblinking. Katniss shrugged hesitantly, tracing the words with her finger for the umpteenth time. The more she read them, the more her heart pounded, the more her blood felt like it was on fire as it rushed through her veins.

"I've not a clue, Madge," she replied hesitantly. "What he proposes is something that could end with both of us being in an awful lot of trouble."

"Of course it does," Jo interjected, finally joining them on the small bed. She hitched her skirts up around her knees and criss-crossed her legs in front of her, earning a huff from Madge. "Fancy boys like him think they can get everything and do everything they want."

"Oh, Johanna, stop being so crass," Madge hissed. "There is nothing in that letter that could be misconstrued as Master Peeta being untoward or inappropriate."

"Everything about that letter is wrong. The fact that it exists is wrong," Johanna insisted. "Katniss is right. Nothing good can come of it."

Katniss sat quietly, listening to the two bicker around her. They both had points – Master Peeta was nothing but polite in the letter, but the simple fact that someone such as him had written her a letter was….well, she couldn't even begin to describe how much of an issue it could cause if ever found. For such a simple letter, it had set off a chain reaction of emotions inside of her. It didn't really matter what the letter said. It was the fact that it was from _him_ that meant everything. She stared at the words, committing them to memory, because a part of her knew that she couldn't keep it.

_Dearest Miss Everdeen,_

_I start this letter with the sincerest of apologies for my actions of late. I may have been improperly forward with you at times, and for that I am sorry._

_It does not alter the fact that I was bewitched by you, in more ways than I could describe, and in more ways than you could imagine. But I know that is not enough, and I do not wish to be so obvious that it cause issue with your employment here, or with the livelihood of you and your family. _

_I would request simply that we become friends. There is no issue with us developing a friendship, as you have seen of my interactions with Mr Abernathy and Mr Hawthorne. I would like to get to you know you better. And I sincerely hope you feel the same._

_Miss Everdeen, I-_

"Are you listening to me, Katniss?" Jo demanded, breaking through her thoughts.

Katniss shook her head, looking up from the letter guiltily. "I'm sorry, Jo. What were you saying?"

"What I was saying," Jo huffed, "Was that this 'extension of friendship' is obviously a prelude to something more. And you have to decide if you're willing to risk your position for it."

"Of course I'm not!" Katniss replied emphatically, though a part of her knew her words were not entirely correct. "You know that Prim and my mother come first. But perhaps you are wrong. Master Peeta may have simply seen the error of his ways and could be sincere with us just being friends."

"Well, if you believe that, then you're far more oblivious than I took you for," Jo said bluntly.

"I'll believe what I wish to believe," Katniss insisted. She turned to the other girl, who was obviously starry-eyed with the notion of an upstairs/downstairs romance, "And Madge, you need to realise that it would never work if he was interested. So stop considering what wedding flowers I would have."

Madge blushed as Jo barked out a loud laugh, and sat up straight. "Believe that all you want, Katniss. But if there is a will, there is a way. And if you want Master Peeta as much as he obviously wants you – then you'll make it work."

Katniss and Jo both looked at her in shock. "Madge, do you even know what you're saying?" Jo asked. "Do you understand anything about what would stand between such a romance?"

"Yes, I do," Madge said firmly. "If you're lucky enough to find love, you should take it. I'm not but 20, and I have already loved and lost. I let something stand between us that never should, and now I am here, alone, and he is going to be married soon. To someone else."

"I'm sorry, Madge," Katniss replied sincerely. Madge waved it aside with a flick of her hand.

"There is no need for apologies. I simply told you so that you can understand that, despite whatever social contrivances you think will stop you, it shouldn't stop you from loving him."

"I never said I loved Master Peeta, and neither has he said likewise," Katniss sputtered, and Madge shook her head.

"You do not need to say it, Katniss. Words are not the only way people can explain themselves. I know why you dropped that platter at the Duchess' event, although thank heavens those Lady Delilah rumours were incorrect! Jo also told me how Master Peeta snuck into the carriage with you on Friday-" She cut off abruptly as Jo hit her on the leg.

"Bloody hell, Madge, keep some of that to yourself, would you?" Jo grimaced. Katniss eyed her suspiciously.

"Jo, did you know that was going to happen when I was travelling to the train?" She asked.

"No. No, I didn't," Jo replied forcefully. "I had no clue. Gale told me afterwards. But Abernathy and Ms Trinket know too."

"WHAT?!" Katniss and Madge squeaked in unison.

"Yeah, from what I heard, old Abernathy gave him a right dressing down too," Jo said smugly. Katniss dropped her head in her hands. This was getting worse by the minute. The people where were nothing but _gossipmongers_. She was going to become the laughing stock of Chatsworth. Everyone would know. Ms Trinket was going to fire her now, there could be no doubt about it. _Damn you, Peeta_, she thought, before she could stop herself. It didn't matter that his letter had given her a flicker of hope, that things would work out fine for all involved. It was nothing but a mess.

"I need to speak to Ms Trinket," Katniss whispered, pulling herself to her feet. Jo reached out, gripping her hand.

"No you don't. Not tonight. Leave it be, Katniss. If she wishes to speak to you, Ms Trinket will come to you herself." Katniss looked down at the hand curled around hers, and nodded. Jo was right. She just needed to rest, get back to her job, and hope that there were no further repercussions. "What confuses me, however," Jo continued, "Is how he even got the letter in here in the first place. I think Master Peeta visiting our quarters would not go unnoticed."

Katniss glanced at her, and realised she hadn't even considered that aspect. "I'm…I'm not sure. Perhaps Haymitch put it in here."

"I highly doubt it, if what I heard about their argument is true," Jo retorted.

"You don't know what was said between them," Madge spoke up. "Perhaps they came to an agreement in the end. Haymitch may have agreed to help him give the letter to you."

"I think there is about as much chance of Haymitch leaving the letter as there is Ms Trinket. Zero. In all-"

"We're arguing about something that does not require arguing about," Katniss interjected. "I think we should leave it be, and go to bed. It is already late, and we have an early start tomorrow."

"Katniss is right," Madge agreed. She slid off the bed, smoothing her skirts around her. Jo followed suit, but didn't bother with her skirts. Katniss thought it was indicative of her two friends' personalities.

She bid them both good night as they left her room, and she quickly dressed for bed. Turning off the small lamp, she crawled under the covers, pulling them up to under her chin and tucked her arms across her body. She stared up at the ceiling, until she eventually fell asleep, the words in Peeta's letter echoing in her mind.

* * *

She finally had a spare moment. The housemaids were attending to their duties, Cato and Marvel had moved out to the stables after spending far too long dawdling over their lunch, and she had approximately 8 minutes before she had to finalise the menu for the following evenings' meal with Sae. So she was determined to use those 8 minutes wisely.

Effie cornered him in the kitchen garden, where she knew he'd snuck out to enjoy a cigar in peace. _Well, he wasn't going to have that for much longer_, she thought to herself. She moved across the gravel path, her steps determined, arms held rigidly at her sides. Haymitch watched her, puffing on the cigar lazily, seemingly unbothered by the annoyance on her face.

"You knew, Abernathy, and elected to refrain from sharing the information with me," she started immediately upon stopping in front of him. He raised an eyebrow at her lack of greeting.

"If you could advise me what you are speaking of, Ms Trinket, I'm sure I could inform you," he replied sarcastically, raising the cigar back to his lips. She crossed her arms, frustrated at allowing herself to speak out of turn.

"You were aware of Master Peeta's feelings towards Miss Everdeen," she clarified. "When we spoke in the kitchen, when I saw Master Peeta alight from the carriage – you did not advise me that you already knew of his feelings. You should have apprised me of your knowledge." She knew a faint blush on her cheeks had appeared, and knew it only came when she was highly flustered – which was rare. Effie Trinket was the consummate professional. Nothing, _nothing_, ruffled her feathers.

Except for a flirtation between the future Duke and a maid, it seemed.

"Must have slipped my mind," he replied, blowing out a stream of smoke before speaking. "Who told you?"

"I heard Margaret and Johanna whispering about it in the dead of night last night, as they returned to their rooms. Four days, Abernathy," Effie replied bluntly. "You kept this from me for four days. Perhaps even longer, as I highly doubt Master Peeta developed feelings for the girl overnight."

"That's where you're wrong. He most certainly did. Quite from the moment he saw her," Haymitch corrected. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you, Effs. I believed it was harmless, nothing if a bit of hormones in the boy talking. That's my mistake to carry."

"First, _Mr_ Abernathy, I must request for more than the hundredth time, not to refer to me as 'Effs'. It borders on crass, and is most certainly not my name. Second, do not keep something like this from me again. I have stood for the girl, to retain her employment, and I do not wish for a scandalous fraternisation to jeopardise her position – or mine for that matter. Or yours," she added pointedly.

"Of course," he grinned. "Shall I tell you about Gale and Johanna?"

Effie huffed, and it was so un-Effie like, that Haymitch laughed. "I am fully aware of that situation as well, and it is no laughing matter. As much as I disapprove, I do not care what they do, so long as it doesn't affect their work, and it does not result in having to find another replacement."

"But Peeta and Katniss slipped right past you?" Haymitch countered with a smirk.

"_Master Peeta and Miss Everdeen_," she emphasised, "do not eat meals together in our kitchen, where their lingering looks do not go unnoticed. Regardless, all I ask is that you keep me apprised. And that you speak to him about the inappropriateness of his actions. We cannot allow for anything to happen, we simply cannot."

Haymitch shrugged, taking another long drag on the cigar before speaking. "I have already spoken with the boy. He is aware it was not the best thing to do. Hopefully I've talked some sense into him."

Effie nodded, unfolding her arms. "I hope so, I certainly hope so. And if not….Well, I am holding you accountable." She turned on her heel to return to the kitchen, but stopped, turning just in time to see Haymitch stub the cigar under his shoe. "And I must request you refrain from that too, Abernathy. Dispose of it correctly. As I constantly advise you to do so." She continued on her way, a slight smile on her face as she heard the mumbled stream of curses behind her.

* * *

_Miss Everdeen, I sincerely hope you take me up on this extension of friendship. Now that I have met you, now that you have ingrained yourself in my life, I cannot bear for you not to be a part of it._

She fluffed and plumped the cushions on the loveseat in the small parlour, those two sentences running over and over in her head. No matter how much she wanted to ignore the letter, to brush it off as a lark of a man with too much time on his hands, and the means to do whatever he wished, she couldn't - there was too much sincerity in its tone. She wanted his friendship, and if that was all she could have, she would welcome it. She stood steadfastly by her determination after their last conversation in the carriage that she had to ensure things remained proper and right between the two – that any feelings she may have should remain buried.

In the three days since she had returned, he had not sought her out individually once, and had been perfectly behaved in any situation where they had happened to come across each other. Not even in the library, when he had caught her thumbing curiously through one of the leather-bound volumes when she should have been sweeping the carpets. He'd quickly exited the room, mumbling a short but polite apology for interrupting her. This only reiterated her thoughts that he was serious in pursuing a friendship and a friendship only, and was waiting on her acceptance. Ultimately, it pleased her that he had seemed to have taken her words to heart, for him to leave any notion of a romance be.

She could only admit to herself she missed the times when he would engage her in simple conversation had he caught her doing the same. Or when he would say something so casually flirtatious – like he had in the carriage - that she couldn't help the traitorous flutter of her heart.

Turning her attention to dusting the sideboard, she began to wonder whether it was really such a bad thing. Was it indeed as bad as she thought it would be? Would they really get in that much trouble for something such as a simple friendship? He quite evidently got along well with others of her station, and for many years, she had most certainly been a staunch supporter of breaking down those social standards. And if a friendship was all that he wanted, then what indeed was the harm?

Perhaps she should consider taking him up on his offer. If she didn't have to worry about relationships, marriage, and losing her position here, she didn't see the harm at all.

_No harm at all._

* * *

_Please feel free to reply to my letter if you will accept my extension of friendship. I have included paper in this envelope if you wish to do so. I can understand if you elect not to, and I will accept and respect your decision. If you do, please leave the letter in your quarters. It will find its way to me._

_Peeta _

Katniss studied the words of his letter yet again, elbows locked on her knees and her head held up by her hands. She was seated cross legged on the floor – she herself thought Johanna's casual way of sitting was perfectly fine, and comfortable, really, so long as she was in the privacy of her own room – with Peeta's letter in front of her, the blank sheaf of paper clutched in her hand. She'd thought about responding all day, from her dusting, to the meal preparations she completed with Sae, and through dinner, where she'd ignored the curious glances from Madge, Jo – even Haymitch and Ms Trinket.

She'd finally decided there was no harm in replying, no harm in being his friend. After all, it seemed that he would be content with that.

_And if it was in part because she perversely enjoyed torturing herself in some way, then so be it._

She laid the paper flat on the ground, picked up the pen she'd discovered in her bedside drawer. There had been a small pile of paper in the drawer along with it, but she chose to use the soft, creamy page Peeta had provided her. After all, he'd given it to her for that purpose.

Taking a deep breath, she put pen to paper.

* * *

Peeta successfully managed to avoid the Duchess following their last altercation. The Duke was either oblivious or chose to ignore the growing tension between his wife and only son. Over the days, Peeta spent more time outside, exploring grounds he had ignored for so long, avoiding any place his mother would be. He would sit up by the Cascade House for hours, looking down at the estate that would one day be his, wondering how he would ever deal with the responsibilities that came with it. Being at Cambridge had done nothing but open eyes that had been looking for something beyond what he had. He wondered if he would be a good Duke, if he would ever be able to do something lasting, something that would make his life more worthwhile than just another Duke in a long succession. Unless a miracle occurred he knew, deep down, that he wouldn't be any different than any of his forefathers.

In a continued effort to void his life of any dealings with the Duchess, Peeta began to take his evening meals alone in the massive dining room hours after his parents ate, surrounded by glittering chandeliers, an abundance of china and a table full of empty chairs. The evening before, thoroughly uninspired by eating alone, he had joined Gale for a meal in the rooms over the carriage house. He had a feeling that would continue regularly for the next two weeks, before he returned to Cambridge for the Michelmas term. While on one hand he was happy to be going back, returning to his friends and leaving behind his mother, he wasn't sure how he was going to survive not seeing Katniss on any whim he chose.

He shook his head, bringing himself back to the present and prepared Mockingjay to clear the low shrubbery that was a perfect height for a jump. She cleared it easily, and Peeta rubbed a hand along her neck in approval as he slowed down to a trot. He directed her towards the stables, a slight trickling of sweat sneaking under his collar. He'd exerted himself on the long ride, to rid himself of the lingering anger he still felt towards his mother, the humiliation he still felt at Haymitch's dressing down, and the nervousness that had settled in him from the moment he'd handed over the letter for Katniss.

Peeta dismounted, and moved into the stables, leading the horse by the reigns, peering into each stall, to make sure neither Cato or Marvel were there. They were the last two people he needed to see right now and the last two who needed to hear this conversation.

He arrived at Mockingjay's stall, manoeuvring her inside and began brushing down her coat. But he was impatient, and couldn't concentrate, his foot tapping nervously against the stone floor. His jacket felt like it was choking him, felt like he couldn't breathe, and he tugged at the collar anxiously. He just wanted to know what she thought.

He turned, as casually as he could, at the sound of footsteps, and his pulse leapt when he saw Madge move through the shadows towards him.

"Master Peeta," She greeted formally.

"Madge," he replied softly. He glanced at the ground, then looked up again, catching her gaze. The little patience he had fled, and he blew out a breath. "Good lord, Madge, please tell me what she said!"

She smiled gently, reaching out a hand to stroke down Mockingjay's neck. "Master Peeta, you've waited three days, I'm sure a few extra moments won't be detrimental to your cause."

* * *

**A/N - Apologies for the lengthy delay between chapters. A little something called Prompts in Panem took a lot of my time ;)**

**I make mention of a place on the Chatsworth Estate in this chapter, the Cascade House. I'll be posting a picture of it on my tumblr - you can find me there under sponsormusings - if you're interested to see what it looks like!**

**Thanks for reading. I appreciate the reviews, follows and favourites so much.**


	7. Chapter 7

Peeta watched as Madge practically cooed at his horse, brushing her hand along her mane. He'd been raised with an appreciation for manners, and always, _always _been advised that patience was a virtue.

Right now, he could not have cared less for manners.

"Madge," he begged. "Will you tell me, please?"

Madge smiled, turning back to face him. She reached her hand into her skirt pocket, pulling the folded piece of paper from it. "You need to provide Katniss with an envelope, Master Peeta, for it was difficult for me to contain my curiosity." She handed the paper to him, his fingers reaching for it eagerly. "Before you read it, Master Peeta," she started.

"Just Peeta," he replied absently, beginning to unfold the paper.

"Peeta," she echoed with a nod, acquiescing to his wishes. "You have to be aware that she believes your letter to be an overture of friendship."

He looked up. "But of course, Madge, as that is what I requested."

She shook her head. "No, you do not understand. She does not see it as anything _other _than friendship. You may have been more subtle than you wished to be. She is oblivious as to your full intent."

"I am unsure of what you are trying to tell me, Madge." His brow furrowed in confusion, twisting the paper in his hands.

She sighed softly, folding her hands in front of her waist. "Forgive me. But I am correct in believing that you wish to be with Katniss, am I not?"

"Yes, you are correct," he confirmed.

"Then in future letters, you may need to provide some form of clarification. She does not see a friendship the way you do, as a prelude to something more. She sees it simply as the way you addressed it – that you wish to be her friend."

He looked down at the letter in his hand, his lips pressed together in frustration. "So my letter has had the opposite effect of what I intended?" He said softly.

"Perhaps. I know you were trying to be careful in how you worded the letter, knowing that anything too strong would immediately cause her to reject the notion. As it was, she was nervous about the concept of just a friendship, seeing as she cannot afford for anything to affect her employment here. I am sure you are somewhat aware of that."

He nodded, and leant against the wall of the horse stall. "Speak with me honestly, Madge. Have I ruined any chance now with this letter? Has it all been for naught, have I been my own worst enemy?" Peeta watched Madge study him curiously, and he could not blame her. Gone was the cocky, confident man who had snuck into Katniss' carriage unannounced, and in his place was one who was horrified that he may have inadvertently removed himself from her affections by a simple miscalculation.

"I would say read her letter, Peeta. You may find something there that eases your worries. But take heed of my advice. Katniss is not known for understanding subtleties. Your initial pursuit of her was too blatant for her to accept, and your letter not blatant enough. Perhaps by finding a middle ground, you will arrive where you seek to be." She dipped her head, did a slight curtsey out of habit. "Keep me informed of when you would wish me to deliver another letter." She turned, walking back out of the stables in the direction she entered.

He looked down at the paper, suddenly hesitant to read it. But what was done was done, he thought, and opened the final fold. Her handwriting was small, cramped, but he could instinctively tell she had taken her time when writing her reply.

_Master Peeta,_

_Thank you for your letter. Your penmanship is beyond compare, and I enjoyed reading your words. I would be happy to accept your offer of friendship, and correspondence via letter is an acceptable form of communication. _

_I am more than appreciative that you have taken the words I spoke to you in the carriage to heart, and look forward to not allowing our differing opinions – and statuses - to prevent us from forming a friendship._

_I am more than happy to allow you to address me by my Christian name, as you do so comfortably with Mr Abernathy and Gale._

_Yours,_

_Katniss_

He sighed, leaning his head back against the wooden wall of the stall - a declaration of love it was not. And Katniss' acknowledgment that she appreciated his ceasing his pursuit of her; well it certainly did not put the odds in his favour. But he had known from the minute she moved from the carriage he would have a battle on his hands. Becoming her friend was only step one. Step two would be winning her over with his words.

Peeta ran his hand down Mockingjay's coat one more time and stepped out of the stall, straightening his riding jacket. He walked out of the main entrance of the stables, too used to them to fully appreciate the glorious stonework and fanciful aesthetic of the building. He stalked quickly over lush green grass, past flower beds displaying whatever seasonal flowers Thresh had directed to be planted, and over to the carriage house, moving inside and catching Gale as he was polishing the carriage seats. He watched Gale patiently, waiting until he'd stepped out from inside the carriage before holding the letter out in front of him.

"You got a reply?" Gale said without preamble, beginning to straighten the curtains on the carriage door window.

"I did," Peeta confirmed.

"And?"

"She is happy to correspond with me," he replied simply.

"Oh no. _You _don't sound very happy with that," Gale grinned over his shoulder as he closed the carriage door. "What happened?"

Peeta sighed, pulling himself up the short steps that led to the front of the carriage, where Gale would normally sit as driver. He gestured impatiently at Gale, who laughed before settling himself beside Peeta and propping his elbows on his knees.

"She is 'more than happy to accept my offer of friendship'," Peeta said heavily. "And quite simply, nothing more. I've ruined any chance I had by being backwards in coming forwards."

"Don't be stupid, Peeta," Gale told him, scoffing. "You know she's only concerned that she and her family are going to be fine. She has to make whatever decisions she needs to, to make sure she survives. She's not going to profess her undying love for you in a letter."

Peeta glared at him, fingers playing nervously with the cuff of his jacket. "I am not asking her to do that Gale, nor am I oblivious to the fact that regardless of what she feels, at this stage, her family and their needs come first. But Madge explicitly told me that Katniss interpreted the letter as an overture of friendship, nothing more."

"You didn't want to scare her off," Gale reminded him.

"I am aware of that. But I did not expect her reaction to be to that extreme."

Gale shook his head. "From what Jo has advised me, Katniss is the most literal, oblivious person she's ever met. If you told her you wanted to be friends, she will take your word for it. If you told her you wanted toast for breakfast every day of your life, she would make you toast _every day_ of your life." He steepled his fingers together, studying them. "She knows how you feel, Peeta, and I believe she's making the decision to try and forget that for the good of her family. Though from what Jo's said – and the fact she did not turn you down in your offer of exchanging letters - she in all likelihood still feels the same way about you, but is ignoring it, intentionally or not, because she believes it is what's for the best."

Peeta's mouth dropped open at Gale's words. "And how did you become such an expert on Katniss Everdeen?" He demanded. Gale smirked.

"I already told you that Jo has spoken to me. But there is something about Katniss in the few conversations we have had that makes me believe we are alike. I think we may have had a similar upbringing, and it reflects who we are today. Remember how long it took me to let Johanna in, and we didn't even have to worry about our positions in the household?"

Peeta nodded reluctantly. "I know. Nothing that you have said has escaped me, for Madge said very similar things to what you have. And both your words have only confirmed what Haymitch told me, that I do not know Katniss well enough yet. I would not understand those things about her unless I became a confidant, a friend, which is my intention. Regardless…..I just don't know how I'm going to bring her back to the point that we were at that day in the forest." _The one and only glorious time he had moulded his lips to hers, had felt her body lined up against his, her heart thudding in time with his own._

Gale pulled himself to his feet, nimbly hopping down from the carriage. "Don't lie, Peeta. You already know how you're going to win her over. You're going to use that persuasive manner of yours and wear her down, like you do everyone. I know you, and you know this already."

Peeta glanced down at the dark haired man who looked at him knowingly, and grinned. "Bullocks, Gale, you're right."

Gale raised his eyebrow. "I know I am. Now go and wash your mouth out. The Duchess doesn't need to hear your potty mouth." Peeta laughed, and climbing down from the carriage, moved out the door and back into the sunshine.

* * *

Katniss tried, unsuccessfully, to prevent the tears streaming down her cheeks. She tried to stem them with her forearm, but she wasn't able to stop one lone tear dropping onto the board on front of her. She _loathed_ it when this happened.

"Katniss, me love, what's wrong?" Sae soothed, rubbing a hand gently on Katniss' back. Katniss gestured wordlessly in front of her, and Sae laughed. "Oh, dear, they're just onions. Nothing to cry over."

She sniffed, a small smile on her face. "I know. They have always affected me this way, I've not been able to prevent it."

"Ah," Sae replied. "I know a trick, and I shall show you." She picked up one of the onions Katniss had yet to peel and chop ready for the evening's meal and took it over to the sink, gesturing for Katniss to follow her. "I should have shown you earlier, though as you're far from being an inexperienced cook, I did not think to." She ran it under a cold stream of water, and, plucking the small paring knife from Katniss' hands, began peeling the onion while the water flowed over it. Taking it from under the stream, and nodding at Katniss to turn the water off, she began to expertly dice it into small pieces. "If you start to tear up again, dear, just pop it under the water. Better water from the tap than from your eyes." She winked, handing the knife back to Katniss, before washing her hands.

"Thank you, Sae," Katniss said gratefully, turning back to onions she had waiting for her, and began to follow Sae's advice. Sae nodded, and moved to the hearth, stoking the fire a little more. They worked in silence, Katniss finishing the onions and Sae pulling out various herbs and spices for the coating for the roasted chicken she was preparing.

For what was meant to be a punishment of sorts from the Duchess, Katniss found the hours she spent in the company of the old cook were those she found herself looking forward to the most. She had little chance of encountering the Duchess and her wrath, it was quiet – unlike the times she spent with Madge and Jo bickering – and she felt she was learning something new that _interested_ her for the first time in a long time. While she had prepared many a meal at home with her mother and Prim, they had been simple, and the skills and knowledge she was gaining through Sae were something completely different.

On the other hand, her years of hunting, both for frivolity and necessity, had afforded her the opportunity to show Sae her skills of skinning and preparing wild game, which had suitably impressed the older woman. They had a comfortable, easy-going rapport that, ultimately, Katniss had to thank the Duchess for helping her to form.

These times also helped to keep her occupied, and not think of the letter burning a hole in the pocket of her skirts.

Since her acceptance of his original letter, she and Peeta had corresponded at least once a day. She was still oblivious as to how the letters were making their way back and forth, though she had desperately staked her own room out for an hour just that morning to no avail. She now had his most recent letter tucked in her pocket, not including the five that were hidden securely in a gap in the lining of her bag. She had found herself unwilling and unable to part with any of the letters like she thought she might have. She knew why; knew why by the way the fine pages were slowly getting crinkled, and the way she could almost recite each one word for word by memory alone. Despite her pleas and ignorance and adamantly holding steadfast that this was nothing but a friendship, she knew that she was dangerously close to doing _precisely_ what she'd requested Peeta not to. Every letter she received took her a little too close to the precipice. He was growing on her, creeping up on her more every single day, making it almost impossible. Her resolve was becoming harder and harder to maintain. The only thing saving her was the knowledge that when he returned to Cambridge, their correspondence would cease to exist, and she would get the space she so desperately needed from him.

"Penny for your thoughts, Katniss," Sae said softly, taking the knife from her still hands. "You've been staring off into space for minutes now."

Katniss blinked, and shook her head. "I'm sorry," she apologised. "I'm not concentrating today."

"No you're not," Sae chided gently, "But I can excuse you this time. You've been a mighty hand these last few weeks, and a fine addition to my kitchen."

Katniss blushed, and held her hand out for the knife again. Sae handed it over – slightly reluctantly – and resumed her task of coating the chicken. "Thank you, Sae. I appreciate the time and patience you've shown me."

"Humph," Sae grumbled, but a smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. "Just nice having someone around who doesn't feel as if they have to talk or moan my ear off. And you seem like you have a good head on your shoulders."

"At times," Katniss replied absently. She felt the sting begin in her eye, and moved back to the sink, running the onion in her hand under the tap before going back to her task.

"Oh?" Sae asked innocently. Katniss glanced up to see the older woman looking at her curiously, and she bit her lip nervously. _What if Sae knew as well? What if_ _everyone__ knew?_

"Just like anyone, I would say," Katniss said flippantly. "We all have our moments of insanity, don't we?"

Sae smiled, and moved beside her, picking up the now chopped onions. "True, my dear, true. Now, go. Run along. I know you like to take some time in those there woods. Give yourself a break before we have to finish preparing the rest of the evenings' meal."

Katniss smiled at her gratefully, placing a hand on the cook's shoulder. "Thank you Sae. I'll be back soon."

She hurried out of the back door, her skirts catching between in her ankles in her haste. She pulled at them until they'd unwound themselves, moving as quickly as she could towards the tree line, towards a blessed twenty minutes of time to herself.

She did not notice Peeta at the edge of the stables, astride Mockingjay, gazing after her intently.

* * *

Stepping through the trees, she took a deep breath, the fresh, brisk air filling her lungs. This late in the afternoon, she could sense the hint of the cooler weather coming, and the rain and sleet and snow that would arrive with it. She imagined the estate would look lovely, snow covering the fields and the house decked out in all of its Christmastime glory.

But it was still 12 long weeks until then.

Katniss wandered aimlessly for a few moments, keeping her eyes on the Hunting Tower to maintain her direction, to ensure she didn't venture too far from the main house. She let her mind empty, let the weight of everything that had been worrying her, _confusing her_, fall from her shoulders.

Then she glanced up, and saw Peeta coming towards her from the opposite direction, moving Mockingjay expertly through the trees. Her heart simultaneously twisted and fell. This was the first time she'd seen him in days. The first time she was likely to speak to him since she'd left him behind in the carriage.

"Good afternoon Katniss," he called, the smile she could only ever describe as _charming_ crossing his face.

"Good afternoon, Peeta," she replied, maintaining the informality they had reached in their letters. He dismounted, looping the reign around his wrist and completed the final few steps towards her. "I do not normally see you riding at this time of the day."

"Ah yes," he sighed. "Well, today I am leaving Chatsworth to return to Cambridge, and wanted to complete one final ride before I left."

"Oh?" Katniss asked nonchalantly. "Your last letter indicated you would not be leaving for another two days." She started walking, not wanting to get side-tracked and miss being back with Sae in time. Peeta fell into step beside her, Mockingjay beside him.

"Yes, that was my original intent. However I received a letter from one of my fellow students, Finnick, who is also on the rowing team with me. He asked if I could return early, for us to have some additional time to train. We need every minute of it, really, to make sure we beat blasted Oxford in March."

"I am sure you will," Katniss told him confidently. The fell silent for a moment, nothing but the crunching of leaves and sticks under their feet and Mockingjay's hooves. "So how long is this term?" Katniss asked as innocently as she could. She let her gaze drift through the forest, back towards the house, so she would not look at him any more than she had to.

"I'm back but a few days prior to Christmas," Peeta replied.

"Quite a long time," Katniss said simply, remembering her thoughts not ten minutes prior about how far away Christmas was. She didn't catch the small smile that played across Peeta's lips.

"Well, yes, but I am sure the time will go quickly. I have Delilah's wedding to look forward to on Christmas Eve, though I am sure my mother will be cursing me to high heaven that it is not my wedding being celebrated." Katniss scoffed.

"The Duchess should realise you will find a wife in your own time," She tried to make her words sound blithe and uninterested, though she could hear the quiver in her own tone.

Peeta smiled ruefully. "Regardless, I am sure that my mother will never be impressed with the decisions that I elect to make in life. No matter of the time." They fell into silence again, continuing to make their way through the woods.

"So, Katniss, you shall continue to write to me while I am at Cambridge?" Peeta finally spoke, stepping over a log, and guiding Mockingjay over as well.

_Oh._

"I….I suppose. I am unsure how that will work though," Katniss replied hesitantly.

"It should be no problem for us to continue," Peeta said firmly. "Gale is aware that we correspond, just as you have advised Johanna and Madge of the same. I shall address my letters to him, and he can organise for your letters to be delivered to me."

"Is that wise?" Katniss asked. "Having someone else involved with our communications? Opening our correspondence up to such a wide distance? What if someone was to discover…."

"Discover what?" Peeta interrupted. "Our letters are simple, there is nothing untoward about them or their content. And, while not involved, many of our friends know of our letters already. But regardless, I trust Gale implicitly. If I ask him to act as our postman, so to speak, I am sure he will agree."

Katniss felt the lump in her throat, admitting to herself that regardless of Peeta's simple, innocent prose in his letters, she read into every sentence of every letter thrice over, trying to uncover a hidden meaning of some sort. She despised that she did it, although she could not seem to stop. But no matter of their simplicity or not, the Duchess would not take too lightly their communications if she learned of them.

"You know I am only concerned of your mother, Peeta," she sighed. "I do not wish for you to get into any further trouble with her. Corresponding between here and Cambridge may not be a good idea."

"I understand, Katniss, but I do not consider it to be a problem."

Katniss let out a sound that sounded like a cross between an exasperated snort and humph. "It obviously seems that you don't believe it to be a problem, as to how unconcerned you are."

"Well, I could certainly say the same to a degree," Peeta retorted. "Every time we exchange a letter, I know that you worry of your employment, if it is discovered by someone outside of those who are aware. _Yet, you continue to do so regardless_."

She turned to him, her eyes wide. "I only wish to spare you the tainting of your reputation!"

Peeta laughed bitterly. "You think my reputation is of any care to me? That I think of my reputation when I write letters to you? Hardly."

"But what if _other people_ discovered you write letters to me?"

"I do not understand why you ask these questions," Peeta sighed, brushing at his riding trousers absently. "I clearly remember your first letter to me stating that you were glad our 'statuses' would not stop us from forming a friendship. What of that? I also remember a fiery woman who once stubbornly told me that the social inequality that currently abounds is ridiculous. Where is that woman? Because I wish to remind her I agree with her. I did not tell a lie that first time we met in the forest. My feelings extend beyond my comments that day, those that were explicitly expressed towards you."

He paused, stopping to turn and look at her directly. She knew her brows were furrowed, her expression confused, as she waited for him to continue. "Katniss, there are those of us who are just as unimpressed at the levels of inequality and seek change. The friendships and relationships I make should be based on mutual interests and likes and a feeling of contentedness. It is no coincidence that my closest friends are not restricted to one gender, or one social class. I feel just as comfortable talking to you, to Gale, as I do with Delilah and Finnick." Peeta smiled gently, but it was the fire in his eyes as he spoke that she was mesmerised by. "While yes, some may see our friendship as unacceptable and undesirable, I do not concern myself with their prejudices, and neither should you. We are only just over a decade from a new era, Katniss, and I can only hope that we progress towards it in a much better manner than society has been. And with that, I hope that those who look down on those of a different station in life can begin to see the error in their ways."

Katniss stared at him. "Those are some impassioned words, Peeta."

He shrugged. "I am just being honest. I wish you would do the same again, as you did that day."

Katniss looked away, studying the patch of dandelions that had sprung up around the base of a nearby tree. "Things…..things have changed since then, Peeta. I like it here. I like the people, I am content with my work. It is one thing to want justice and equality and to not be frowned upon because of my place. It is another to try to start a revolution of some sort, because I simply cannot afford to. Not with my family." She sighed. "You know I will continue to write to you, Peeta. Your…friendship has come to mean too much to me. But we just need to be careful, that is all. For your sake, with your mother, and my sake, with my employment."

Peeta nodded, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. He reached a hand out, taking hers in his, and holding it lightly. She felt her body tense at his unexpected touch.

"Thank you, Katniss, for that means a great deal to me. And I can guarantee that we will have no problems or issues with our correspondence. I write to Gale and Haymitch often while I am away, so it will not be out of place for letters to arrive from me."

"Then I shall take your word for it," Katniss replied, though she wondered if he could ever guarantee such a thing. She watched, almost as if it was happening in a dream, as Peeta began to raise her hand to his lips, her heart beginning to thud as they pressed onto her skin. _This wasn't what she was expecting, what they'd agreed to._

But his lips lingered on her knuckles, soft and sweet, his warm breath playing across her skin, and she bit her lip at the tingle that shivered up her arm and the echoing insistent tug low in her belly.

She knew she should pull her hand away, knew she should break the connection. But he hadn't touched her since their time in the carriage, and then she'd been too horrified to simply take stock of his proximity. But now, the way he was gently nibbling across the back of her hand to her wrist...She closed her eyes, mentally repeating to herself that it was for the best he was leaving, and that time far apart would weaken whatever bond tethered them together. For no matter how hard she tried to ignore it or snap it, nothing seemed to work for long.

Katniss heard Peeta clear his throat, and her eyes flickered open, to see him staring at her, his eyes dark and intense. Their joined hands fell listlessly between them.

"I...I believe it is time I must leave," He uttered, and she nodded dumbly. She'd lost the simple power of speech in one little touch. "I shall see you at Christmas. And take my advice - trust in Gale. He will be more than happy to see us continue our...friendship while I am away."

"I will do my best," she whispered. "Enjoy Cambridge, Peeta."

"I will," he replied with a grin. "Enjoy Chatsworth, Katniss." He stepped back, swiftly pulling himself up onto Mockingjay's saddle, and briskly rode away, taking one quick glance back at Katniss before he disappeared through the foliage.

* * *

**A/N: Thank you for reading, I appreciate all the reviews, follows and favourites. I occasionally post pictures of the real Chatsworth House on my Tumblr - I'm there on sponsormusings - so if you're ever interested, you can see what I use as my inspiration on there!**


	8. Chapter 8

_October 2_

_Dearest Katniss,_

_My return to Cambridge was, on a whole, uneventful. The train travel was smooth, and meeting up with my colleagues felt like we had only seen each other yesterday. A number of them have returned engaged, which does not surprise me. If their mothers are anything like the Duchess, I assure you after Christmas, they will return to Cambridge wed. _

_Finnick is certain he will hold out as a bachelor for as long as he can – he is a notorious flirt, Katniss, if you have ever met one – but he speaks too often of a young woman by the name of Anne from a neighbouring estate to his for me not to make assumptions. The glint that appears in his eye when he refers to her lovingly as 'Annie' is far too obvious for me to think otherwise. _

_We have already begun our rowing training, and I am pleased to see that everyone is in fine form. I do believe our chances of defeating Oxford grow every day. It seems strange being back on the Tideway, after being at Chatsworth for so many weeks. But it almost seems like a friend I have returned to after a long absence. They do say absence makes the heart grow fonder…_

_I wish my letter could be longer, but I must be on my way to my classes for the day. Keep watch on Haymitch for me, for I know the scoundrel starts to look for trouble the minute I am not there. And thank Gale for delivering this letter._

_I look forward to your reply._

_Yours, Peeta._

* * *

"Katniss, did you hurt your hand?"

Katniss looked up in surprise as Ms Trinket looked down at her, concern in her eyes. Following the housekeepers gaze, she realised she had been subconsciously rubbing the skin on the back of her hand.

"No…no I do not believe so, Ms Trinket," she replied, blushing. She picked up her piece of marmalade covered toast, and bit into it.

"Are you sure? You've been favouring it for a number of days." Ms Trinket reached for her hand gently, studying it intently. She turned it over in her palm. "Well, I cannot see any bruising or the like. See that you take care of it, as we do not need any injuries at the moment. You are aware we have a hunting party visiting with us from tomorrow, and cannot afford to be down a housemaid." She placed Katniss' hand back on the table as if it were glass, and moved back to where Sae was kneading dough at the counter. Katniss averted her gaze from Madge, who was staring at her with a grin on her face. But she was smart enough to remain silent until they had left the kitchen to begin their duties.

"You should have told her, Katniss," Madge teased as they moved down the hall. "'Oh, Ms Trinket, I am fine. It is simply because Master Peeta kissed my hand, and I cannot stop thinking about it!'"

Katniss glared at her. "Stop being so childish, Madge," she hissed.

"You cannot deny it," Madge replied knowingly.

"I wish I had never told you," Katniss retorted. "I shall never tell you anything ever again if this is how you will act."

Madge bit her lip to stop herself from laughing. "I apologise, Katniss. But you know that that is what you have been doing all week."

Katniss blushed, moving quickly out of the servants' corridor, through the lower level of the house, towards the grand staircase. She hated this entry way with a passion, with its black and white diamond patterned floor, marble staircase and gilded gold edges. And while she could, to a degree, appreciate the abundance of artwork that covered every available surface across the walls and ceiling, it was the overabundance of _everything_ that bothered her. This room here summed up perfectly why she despised the wide expanse of differences between the haves and the have not.

She stalked up the stairs quickly, eager to get started with her appointed duties for the day, for the sooner she started, the sooner she could be finished. Between herself and Madge, they had 4 suites to prepare for tomorrows guests, not to mention her having to assist Sae with the meal preparations. It was going to be a busy day.

Madge quickly fell into line beside her, apologies falling from her lips. "I am sorry Katniss. I only wished to joke with you; I did not mean anything by it." Katniss glanced at her, and paused.

"I know, Madge. It is possible that it is because you have hit a little too close to home that frustrates me, more so than your mocking." She continued down the hallway, cutting into the small, secret room that contained the linens. Reaching up to the highest shelf, she began pull down the bed linen and heavily embroidered quilts.

"Have you sent him a letter in reply to the one you first received?" Madge ventured.

Katniss glanced at Madge over her shoulder, and indicated towards the shelves impatiently. "Yes, I have. I gave it to Gale yesterday to send."

"So do you miss Peeta, then?" Madge asked quietly, filling her own arms with sheets. Katniss faulted, looking away.

"He is my friend, of course I miss him. But he has only been gone for a week, Madge," she replied.

Madge shook her head. "I would consider him my friend as well, Katniss, but I do not think I miss him quite as much as you do." Katniss huffed, ignoring the comment, and turned towards the door. Madge rested a hand on her arm, stopping her before she could step out back into the hall. "Do you ever wonder why Peeta is so different?"

Katniss' brow furrowed in question at the change in topic, forcing Madge to continue on.

"While this is the only estate I have ever worked at, I have seen enough of those who move in the social circles of the Duke and Duchess. And not very many of them are like Peeta at all. Most are the complete opposite, in fact. Lady Delilah is charming and friendly, but…None of them have the sense of discord with their place that Peeta has. None of them understand what he does, what we do. That all of this inequality is wrong. Peeta is different. He is…..good."

Katniss looked down at her hand, then back up at Madge and nodded. "You are right, he is. And we should be thankful for that, not question it. That at least we have _one_ master who is not a total handful." She pulled on the handle, opening the door. "Now come, Madge, enough of this. Let us not waste any more time. We do not have all day, and Sae will skin me alive if I am late this afternoon."

* * *

_October 23_

_Dear Peeta,_

_Thank you for your most recent letter. I wish I could share your enthusiasm, but your classes sound dreadfully boring. I have never been one who was interested in being trapped in a classroom, and always learned so much more from being outdoors. But the important thing is that you enjoy them, and if you do, then that is good._

_Life at Chatsworth is busy, but not of very much excitement. The Duchess is preparing for another afternoon tea shortly, though I have been asked not to assist with the service. It is my pleasure not to. Haymitch and Ms Trinket continue to bicker – it must be the cold weather that is causing tension between them – and it would not surprise me if one day Gale and Johanna are discovered. They were not very…subtle one evening last week. I shall say no more._

_I have been visiting Mockingjay daily, and she does seem to miss you so. She does not seem as excited to see me as she ever was to see you, but I do my best. I have snuck her a carrot or two when Cato and Marvel have not been looking._

_I miss not being caught reading in the library by you. If I am not careful, I shall finish an entire book soon._

_I must go, for I cannot be late for supper._

_Katniss._

Katniss looked the letter over quickly, and before she could tempt herself out of throwing it away due to her last few lines, she folded it, placed it in the envelope, and sealed it. Her first letter to him had been very simple, quite possibly impersonal. But after her conversation with Madge and Peeta's ensuing letter, she felt herself wanting to be more honest, more informal. Her nerves still skittered, wondering if she should have said such a thing, mentioning about the library, then dismissed it. Of course she should include it - it really was nothing but the truth.

* * *

_October 30_

_Dearest Katniss,_

_I was delighted to receive your last letter. Thank you for continuing to visit with Mockingjay. I would suggest you take her out, but she is loyal to a fault, and refuses to be ridden by anyone other than myself. She can be a little temperamental at times, so the fact she will accept a carrot from you shows me that she does like you. I must say, she has impeccable taste._

_With the winter weather now beginning to set in, we will soon have to postpone our outdoor training. Last winter we had far too many crew down with a horrible bout of influenza, and we cannot afford that again. So we will spend much of our time training indoors, or running through the grounds here. The gardens will be lovely, but do not compare to Chatsworth's._

_I saw a girl on the street today, and for a moment, I thought she was you. Her hair was the colour of chocolate, and her profile was so close to yours I almost called out to her. I am thankful I did not, because she turned, and she certainly did not compare to you in any way. Your beauty is far beyond hers, I know for a fact._

_I miss interrupting you in the library also. It was one of my favourite pastimes._

_Yours,_

_Peeta_

* * *

Peeta hurried into the boathouse, already exhausted from an afternoon of training. He still had a full night of study ahead for pre-exams the following day – the more the Duchess reminded him that his studies did not matter, the more he was determined to succeed at Cambridge – _and_ compose a letter to Katniss. He had meant to finish it the previous night, but in a flash of inspiration, he had decided to send her a photo to accompany his letter.

He thought it time he stepped things up a notch.

Over his previous few letters, he had slowly tried to include a reference to her, to how much he missed her, how much he wanted to be with her. He was, in all probability, still being too subtle, though his fears of pushing her away made him hesitant to be any more forward than he was. But, as he alluded to in his first letter, absence often made the heart grow fonder, and he hoped that, in Katniss' case, it was true.

Her letters had become less rigid, more friendly, as time had passed. He remembered with a laugh of the time she hinted at Gale and Johanna being found out, and had even included a surprisingly bawdy joke in her most recent letter, that he was certain Johanna would have told her. It had made him smile, knowing that she was comfortable enough with him to include such a tale. What he liked more was the hints she made towards missing him. She included them almost as an afterthought, or quickly, as though if she wrote them hurriedly and did not pay them much mind, they were not entirely true.

He had become fond of her small, cramped writing, had studied her letters so often that he would see the imprint of her words behind his eyelids every time he closed them. And he was oft the cause of good natured ribbing from Finnick and their other friends, with his growing pile of letters secured with an orange ribbon. It did not bother him, for he had finally found what he had been looking for, and nothing they said or teased him about would change that.

Moving into the trophy room, he headed straight for the hutch, rifling through the drawers, trying to find the pictures that had been taken at the end of last term. A deep clearing of a throat startled him, and he caught his fingers in the drawer.

"Bugger!" he yelped, yanking on the chain on the lead-light floor lamp to his left and turning to face the intruder. Finnick stood there, arms folded across his chest, looking more amused than he should. Peeta rolled his eyes, and turned back to the drawer. "Finnick, you ass. You scared the devil out of me."

"I am not the one snooping around the boathouse in the middle of the night," Finnick reminded him, leaning against the gleaming mahogany of the hutch.

"It is hardly the middle of the night," Peeta replied distractedly. He tugged on a pile of pictures tucked into the corner of the drawer, and let out a positive acclamation when he found the photo he was looking for. Photos were a wonderful thing, he had decided a long time ago, a wonderful companion to the paintings he had grown up loving to study.

"And what have we been looking for?" Finnick asked.

"A photo to send to Katniss," Peeta replied. He put the remaining few photos back in the drawer, and closed it carefully.

"Let me see." Finnick raised an eyebrow as he studied the photo Peeta held out to him for inspection. "My god, I remember that day. We were exhausted, and the photographer was insistent on taking an official team photograph, no matter how many times we tried to protest. None of us look particularly impressed. But," he smirked, "It is not exactly the most…innocent photo you could send, Peeta."

"It is the best and most recent one that I know of," Peeta protested. "I wanted to include you in there, as I have spoken of you often in my letters."

Finnick shook his head, and laughed, his green eyes twinkling. "Some people are quite taken aback when they see a rowing costume for the first time," he reminded him. He glanced at Peeta, studied the small grin on the man's face as realisation slowly hit. "Peeta, I believe you're sending this particular picture to her intentionally."

Peeta looked up, sliding a hand up behind his neck and rubbing at it bashfully, before shrugging. "Well…Yes, I suppose I am."

"You sly bastard, Peeta," Finnick slapped him on the back. "I never thought I would see the day when Master Romantic would do such a thing."

"It is no such 'thing', Finnick," Peeta insisted. "I simply want her to think of me." They caught each other's eye, and almost identical charming smiles crossed their faces.

Think of him indeed, Peeta thought. That was _exactly_ what he wanted Katniss to do. Because in the letter after this one, he was going to explain to her precisely how he felt.

Turning off the lamp, they moved out of the boathouse, back towards their rooms. Lamplights lit their way, beating back the shadowy darkness of the night.

"Are you still sure of all of this?" Finnick asked, after silence had fallen for too long. Peeta had told him almost immediately upon his return to Cambridge of his meeting Katniss, how he felt about her. Finnick, while happy for his friend, had held reservations of attempting such a partnership. He appreciated his friends' romantic heart, and had to admit he had never seen the young future duke this happy. But he had also met the Duchess, knew the importance of the seat of Devonshire, knew a relationship with a housemaid of all people would not be well accepted.

Yet Peeta promptly, but politely, disregarded Finnick's concerns when voiced. For now, he was happy to leave it be. Though he was concerned – seriously concerned – that Peeta was headed past the point of no return.

Peeta brushed the question aside with a wave of his hand. "Of course I am, Finnick, you know that. Just because the lady you wish to wed is of proper breeding," Peeta ignored Finnick's half-hearted protestations, for no matter what Finnick said, Peeta knew that it was true, "Does not mean that Katniss and I cannot have a successful relationship."

"The Duchess," Finnick replied simply. Peeta clenched his jaw.

"I will concern myself with her when the time comes."

"You know she will not approve of this." Finnick's tone was gentle. Peeta took a deep breath, glaring at his friend. He knew he was only trying to assist him, but the frustration of what he already knew to be true – Haymitch had already reminded him so - bubbled to the surface.

"I am aware of that Finnick, well aware. To hell with my mother. To hell with the lot of them," he muttered. "I am the future Duke of Devonshire, and if I cannot do what I wish, then what is the point of being a Duke? Answer me that, Finnick. Why should anyone be able to tell me what to do?"

"Because that is how our society works. We may have titles, and freedom to do so much more than others less fortunate. But marry out of our station, _especially_ as a Duke, is not something others take lightly." Finnick raised his hand, resting it on Peeta's shoulder. "I do not mean to rain on your parade, Peeta, I only wish to ensure that you know what you are doing. You know that I will be your friend no matter what. And I hope that you do get your desire, Peeta. No one deserves happiness more than you." He glanced down at the photo Peeta clutched, a smirk slowly covering his face. "Damn you to hell, Peeta. I wish I had found that picture first. I would not mind Annie thinking of me a little while I am away." Peeta chuckled quietly, before it caught on to Finnick, their laughter carrying across the lawn.

And as he wrote his letter to Katniss later that evening, Peeta hoped she _did _think of him. More than a little.

* * *

_November 16_

_Dearest Katniss,_

_This is the first time in a very long while that I can remember missing Chatsworth this much while away at Cambridge. I find I am missing the woods, the stables, and I miss my daily ride with Mockingjay. I miss the smell of the air, I miss enjoying a whiskey with Haymitch, I miss speaking with Gale. And I miss you, most of all._

_While I know my portrait graces the halls of the estate, please find enclosed a picture of myself and the men in the rowing crew. Though I doubt you forget what I look like, I feel this is more a representation of who I am, rather than those pompous paintings the Duchess has had me sit for. I am on the left, with Finnick beside me-_

Katniss dropped the letter, and reached into the envelope eagerly, pulling out the picture Peeta had included with his letter. She could not prevent the small gasp that fell from her lips. Jo and Madge looked over at her from the end of her bed, where Madge was patiently trying to show Jo how to needlepoint, and Jo was impatiently trying to stop her.

"What is it, Katniss?" Madge asked.

Katniss opened her mouth, then closed it again, and wordlessly held up the picture in her hand. Both Jo and Madge scrambled over the bed, and reached for it simultaneously. She watched their reactions as they took in the photo.

"So…."Madge trailed off. She looked up at Katniss, her face pinkening, then back at the picture again.

Jo laughed, pulling the picture close to her face. "Well that certainly does not leave much to the imagination, does it? Although, I must admit my imagination was certainly never _that_ good."

Her remark snapped Madge out of her stupor, and she pursed her lips at her. "Oh Jo, _honestly_. Must you be so…."

"Honest?" Madge glared at her, but couldn't stop the small smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. She turned back to Katniss, who was still staring at the picture. "Katniss? Are you alright?"

Katniss' head flew up, her eyes wide. "I just…I did not expect them to wear such outfits. They are morerevealing than I expected."

"You've seen him in his riding britches, Katniss. They are quite form-fitting," Jo reminded her with a smirk.

"Yes, but…..I suppose I never looked at them _that way_."

Jo rolled her eyes, then leant back against the wall. "Is it around this time that I am supposed to tell you that I warned you of this all along? A man does not send a lady a photo like that without wanting her to…wonder." She finished her sentence with a wink, and Katniss' mouth dropped open, before looking down at the photo again. She studied the slim round-collared shirt that was bare of sleeves and tucked into the short, clinging trousers that ended at his knees. But it was the glimpses of skin that she would not normally be privy to that commanded most of her attention.

"Look at the muscles in his legs," Katniss pointed out. Madge inhaled deeply.

"_Katniss! _Don't call them _legs_," she whispered. "They're _limbs_."

"Ignore the polite police, Katniss," Jo retorted. "Call them whatever you wish."

Katniss simply could not stop staring at him. It was absurd – she had seen him practically every day for months, and suddenly a simple photo had turned her into a simpering fool. But no riding jacket or breeches had ever given her a full appreciation of his muscular shoulders, the strong leanness of his legs, or that expanse of smooth, pale skin. Even in the pale brown and white photo, his eyes shone, though she was disappointed that he was not smiling the wide, charming grin he so often turned on her. He was handsome yes, and made her heart race. But it was not just how he looked – it was _him_, it was simply everything about him that made each nerve in her body spring to life. _She missed him_.

She looked up to see both Madge and Jo studying her, and she sighed. "I have done it, haven't I?" she said softly. "I cannot deny it anymore, or pretend otherwise. Not when it is so obvious."

"You are in love with him," Jo stated, matter-of-factly.

"Yes," Katniss whispered. Her face filled with colour, creeping up her neck and onto her cheeks.

Jo grinned. "It is about bloody time you admitted it to us."

"It still does not change anything," Katniss insisted, nervously twisting the edge of her skirt in her fingertips. Madge shook her head, taking Katniss' hand in hers and squeezing.

"No, Katniss, it changes everything."

* * *

_November 23_

_Dear Peeta,_

_Thank you for your letter, and the photo you so kindly sent to me. Your crew seem like a group of fine men, and Finnick looks exactly how you described him. You are simply that good with words that you can describe something to me and I can picture it perfectly. I shared your photo with Jo and Madge, and they were quite taken with your rowing costumes. They are certainly like nothing we have seen before._

_We are busy at the moment, preparing for the Christmas period. While it is still a month away, we must be fully prepared well in advance. I have been assisting Sae with the menus for the week of and around the day, and for the Christmas event the Duke and Duchess are hosting. There are rumours that Her Majesty Queen Victoria has been invited, although no-one can confirm this. Ms Trinket will not say a word._

_I visited with Prim and Mother this past weekend. They are both well, and enjoy hearing of my stories of Chatsworth. Prim is especially eager to hear of my friends, and is partial to the stories of Haymitch when he has had too much whisky of an evening. _

_I wish to speak with her of our letters, but am still hesitant to. I am not sure whether she would understand or not, though she seems far more worldly at 15 than I did at the same age. _

_My thoughts are with you for your upcoming exams._

_Katniss._

* * *

It was the first letter she had not shown Madge and Johanna - this one was positively for her eyes only. Her heart still pounded each time she read it, and she read it often. Part of her had known it was coming, knew the words he had written had been threatening to spill forth from him for weeks. But even her admission to Jo and Madge had not completely prepared her for it.

Katniss twisted over on her bed, staring blankly at the ceiling, the letter clutched tightly in her hand. Everything she had never wanted, and everything she had, was very close to coming to fruition. His casual, friendly letter had taken a turn for the serious in its final page.

_December 3_

_Dearest Katniss,_

_I am glad you liked the photo I enclosed. They are a funny bunch of chaps, and a good crew. I have decided photos are a wonderful thing, and only wish that I had a photo of you. While every one of your features is imprinted in my thoughts, I cannot help but think how lovely a picture of you would look on my shelf._

_It seems as though Chatsworth is preparing well for the holidays. It would be quite a coup for my mother if Her Majesty was able to attend. She has visited Chatsworth twice so far in her lifetime, but in so far, not while the Duchess has lived there._

_I should imagine you shall gain an influx of visitors soon, to socialise and simply enjoy the enjoyment Chatsworth offers. When I return, I shall be bringing Finnick with me for a short time. He dismisses it, but I am certain it is because he wishes to meet you. He is curious as to this person who I have been so committed to writing to since my return, though I cannot blame him. I speak of you, and speak of you often. We shall be returning earlier than expected, and will be arriving at Chatsworth in the middle of December._

_And with that, Katniss, I am afraid I can no longer keep my feelings to myself, for they have been pent up from you for so long. And with the knowledge I am returning home soon, I must take my opportunities while I still can._

_I hear your voice in my sleep, I hear it when I eat, I hear it when I am rowing. I hear it…all the time. It makes my heart ache. And your eyes. They haunt my dreams. They follow me everywhere I go, although you are never there. I feel I cannot breathe when you are away from me, or even when we are together, though for very different reasons. _

_It is only fair to say that my feelings for you are very clear, and have never waned. Forming a friendship with you has been the best decision I have made in my life, for as I have learned more of you, it had made my resolve even firmer._

_I shall return to Chatsworth in two weeks' time. And during this time, Katniss, I wish you to think of allowing me to court you. For, quite simply, it is the only thing of any importance to me. Please, on the day of my return, meet with me in the woods, where we last said goodbye. I shall wait for you at 3pm._

And as she remembered the words, felt the gravity of them wash over her, she could no longer argue that it was not of great importance to_ her_.

* * *

She rested against the rough bark of the tree, hands twisting nervously in her lap, shivering in the cool air. Her breath came out in little puffs, and not even the warmth of her coat could stop her fingers from tingling. No matter how many times in the days since she had received Peeta's letter that she had tried to talk herself out of meeting with him, she had still found herself heading to the woods at the time he had requested. And now she stood, waiting, wondering, if she had made the right decision.

She had thought of nothing but him, and of Prim, and of her mother. Of whether what he was proposing was something that she could allow to happen. Whether she could take such a risk, whether it would be worth it. For once she wished for something for _herself_. Not for anyone else, just herself. And so she found herself here, ready to take chance. Even if it petered back out when he returned to Cambridge in the new year, she knew she would not regret it. She had already admitted to herself – and to Jo and Madge - that she loved him. Nothing could make her regret that.

Not entirely.

She heard the rustling of branches, the crunching of feet on snow, and looked up to meet his delighted gaze. He looked even more handsome than she had remembered, with his blonde waves blown haphazardly by the brisk breeze, his cheeks ruddy and his blue eyes bright with happiness.

"You came," he said, and she could hear the surprise in his voice. She could not find hers, and so simply nodded. She crossed her arms across her chest, to keep herself warm. He made no move towards her, as if sensing she was nervous and stood, arms held firmly behind his back.

"Come, let us walk," Peeta finally suggested. "It is far too cold to be standing here. We shall make our way to the Cascade House, and out of this brisk air."

"That would be too open a place for us to be seen," Katniss replied hesitantly.

"It shall be fine," he insisted. She glanced down at the elbow he cocked towards her, then slowly slid her arm through his, resting her hand on his forearm. _She had not touched him in so long_.

So they walked, and talked, Katniss listening as Peeta filled her in on what she wasn't aware of with the upcoming wedding of Delilah and Viscount Thompson, and of his train trip back from university. She was thankful for the mundane chatter, and that he had not immediately referred to his letter, and his request.

"I take it you enjoyed your time away at Cambridge?" Katniss asked when he had finished. She already knew the answers to these questions – his letters had already answered them along the way – but the longer she could prolong the inevitable, the better she felt. They moved out from the tree line, towards the shelter of the Cascade House. With the deep haze from the coolness in the air, it was difficult to see the main house and, she hoped, was difficult for the main house to see to here.

"It was…enjoyable," Peeta replied smoothly. "I enjoyed the literary classes I undertook, and the business ones were passable. More a means to appease my father."

"And your rowing?" Katniss queried, feeling the blush creep up on her cheeks as she remembered the photo he had sent her.

He laughed delightedly. "Well, the rowing and training was what certainly helped to pass the time. I spent far too many an evening down at the college boathouse. Some of my fellow rowers can most certainly drink themselves under a table." He smiled as they stepped into the shadows, running a hand idly across the cool stonework. "But training was hard. There were some days my body ached so much I thought it would break apart. My shoulders would feel like they had been pulled out of their sockets, my arms and legs like jelly. But it will be worth it, my word it will be worth it, when we win in March. I fully expect we will trounce them," he finished confidently. He turned to her, finally, his eyes excited. "But I have heard nought of your last few weeks. Tell me, what has happened since your last letter to me?"

Katniss turned over the last few weeks in her head, and realised there was not much she could tell him that would not lead to some sort of embarrassment. She could not exactly explain to him she had not paid much attention to the goings on at Chatsworth because she had been too busy thinking about _him_.

"We had a number of hunting parties throughout November and the first week of December, but none in over a week. It is the quiet lull before Christmas," she said finally. "The Duchess has been quite scant, and has spent most of her time in her quarters. Many of us believe she is still upset of the Viscounts wedding."

"Quite dramatic of her," Peeta scoffed. Then he brushed it aside with the wave of a hand, and took a deep breath, as if to steady himself. He took a step towards her, and she swallowed heavily, realising _this was it, he was not going to postpone it any longer _and tried to remember how to speak. But she couldn't force any words out; they stuck like thick honey in her throat. "So, have you…have you considered my request, Katniss?"

She nodded slightly, drawing in a deep breath. His eyes bore into hers, with excitement, fear nervousness; she was not sure.

"And what say you? Will you allow society and other peoples prejudices to stop us from being together?"

His words caused a fire in her belly that she was thankful for – it warmed her from the inside out, gave her a sliver of confidence that she desperately needed. "You know I care nothing for people's prejudices and the restrictions of our class," she said bluntly. "That is not the reason I have been hesitant."

Peeta held his hands up in supplication. "And that I completely understand. First and foremost your priority is your family, your sister and mother. And I cannot fault you for that." He took another step closer, until he was in front of her. "You are an admirable woman, Katniss, one who puts the goodwill of others before herself. But I assure you, I will not allow anything to happen to you, nor to your family. I will make sure of it."

Katniss fell quiet, still unsure of what to say.

* * *

He was sure his heart had not beaten this hard, or erratically, in his entire life. Not even a rowing race had ever made him this nervous, and he wondered if Katniss Everdeen knew how much of an effect she had on him. He watched her, desperate to take her in his arms, but hesitant to do so. He needed to wait for her.

"Katniss?"" he finally asked softly.

"I know you mean well with your words, Peeta," she started, "But how can you ever be 'sure'? No one has complete control over their lives, no matter how much they would care to."

"I cannot ever be sure, as you correctly say. But I will do everything I can to make sure we avoid it. I do not want your family to suffer any more than you do."

"If…If I allow this, Peeta, I need your word. That no matter what happens between us; it will not affect my employment. I am sure that if we….if things do not happen the way we wish them to, that we can act with decorum and manners around each other."

He schooled the smile that threatened to take over his face, and bowed his head. "You have my word, Katniss."

"Very well, then," she replied simply. His head lifted quickly, eyes wide.

"Then you will allow it?"

She glanced away, at the length of the fountain that flowed down the expanse of lawn to the main house. And he heard her whisper, so softly he almost could not hear it. "_I'll allow it_."

His heart leapt, and in the shadows of the Cascade House, where he could afford to do so, he gently traced a finger down her arm. She did not flinch, but he caught the flicker in her eyes, and she did not stop him when he moved forward, his arm wrapping firmly around her waist. He could feel the confusion warring inside her, the two sides of her battling over what she should do, how she should act. But when her tense shoulders relaxed, and her hand rested tentatively on his hip, he smiled, gently pulling her closer.

"I have waited so long for this," he breathed softly against her ear, and he felt her body shudder against his. "The last term was torture, and felt as though it lasted forever." She turned her head, and looked up at him, her eyes a molten mix of longing, fear and desire.

"You should not have been thinking about it all that time," she whispered, swallowing nervously.

"It was the only thing I could think of," he told her, ducking his head and nibbling at the skin below her ear. She gasped, and he felt the breath hitch in her chest.

"We shouldn't," she argued, though there was no heat or determination to her words.

"We should," he confirmed, lifting his head and capturing her lips with his.

* * *

**A/N - Thank you, as always, for reading. Your favourites, follows and reviews mean so much!**

**With thanks to MalTease and salanderjade for giving me their feedback and encouraging me to complete this chapter.**

**You can find me on tumblr under sponsormusings.**


	9. Chapter 9

His hands rested on the small of her back, fingers pressing lightly against the fabric of her dress. His body had pressed hers against the wall, so she could feel the cool stone against her shoulder blades. But it was his lips, firm and warm and insistent on hers, which overpowered any other thought and feeling. They slanted over hers, coaxing her to move with him, his tongue darting out to trace the seam of her lips, encouraging her to do the same. The tug on her heart was echoed by an insistent pull low in her belly – something she had not felt since that first kiss in the middle of the woods.

She pulled away, her cheeks flushed and heart pounding, and rested her forehead lightly against his chest. She could feel his heart pounding beneath his shirt, where his coat had slightly parted from her hands seeking his warmth.

"We should go back inside," Katniss whispered, already slightly regretting removing her lips from his.

"We are not in any hurry," Peeta replied. "Unless, of course, you have duties to attend to, and in that case, I shall not detain you further."

Katniss shook her head slightly, raising her head until she was looking up at him. "I have at least another half an hour until I am due to return to the kitchen, but-" Her words were cut short as Peeta's hands cupped her cheeks, pulling her face to his, pressing his mouth to hers again. She didn't pull away, not when she needed this as much as he did, though she was still loath to readily admit it.

"You know," he whispered in between kisses, "I doubt I will find myself tiring of this."

"Of what?" Katniss managed to murmur, hands clenching at the sides of his coat.

"Of kissing you. Of touching you. Of being near you." He punctuated each sentence with a kiss along her cheekbone.

"Oh," was all she could manage. She felt his cheek rise against hers as he smiled.

"Are you surprised by that?" He asked, drawing her near and wrapping his arms tightly around her waist, nuzzling his face into the side of her neck.

"I…I am not sure. Things have changed very much in the last few hours."

Peeta pulled his head back and smiled down at her wryly. "I would say the last few _weeks_, Katniss. I am sure you felt the shift in tone of my letters quite some time ago." She nodded reluctantly, and he continued. "It was quite a struggle being here with you those months, trying to hide how I felt for you, trying to pretend your friendship was going to be enough. It was so much easier to put pen to paper and finally admit it to you. At least then I would not have to see the pity or condemnation on your face if I had poured out my feelings to you in person. If you had not shown yourself this afternoon, I am afraid I may have simply locked myself in my quarters, then travelled with Finnick immediately to his estate."

"That is a bit extreme, do you not think?" Katniss asked.

"It depends. Whether your heart could handle seeing what it wanted day in and day out, and not being able to have it."

Katniss blushed, and looked away. "You flatter me too much."

Peeta reached his hand up, tucking his hand under her chin and lifting it so her eyes rose to his. "Flattery will get me nowhere. But the truth will." He kissed her again, lightly. "We must make the most of this time while I am here. I am here for but a month before I must return to Cambridge. And I am afraid I may not be able to return again until after our race."

"And that is at the end of March?" Katniss queried.

"That is correct. I will try to come back before that if I can-" He began, but Katniss brushed it aside.

"We should not be thinking so far in advance about something that may not even be of importance by then," she told him, and he shook his head, tightening his grip on her.

"Do not start with foolish notions, Katniss, for this will work so long as we are both committed to it. And you said you would allow it…" he trailed off, looking at her beseechingly.

"You are right, I am sorry. But nevertheless, there is no point in talking about something so far away. As you said, you are here for a month, and a busy month it will be indeed. The Duchess is not sparing any expense this Christmas, and with the inclusion of the ball…."

"Not to mention the wedding," Peeta interjected, "Which I am sure my mother will beg illness from attending." He grinned at her and she could not help but return the smile to him, though hers was far from as brilliant as his.

Katniss let silence fall over them while they stood in each other's embrace, before voicing the other concern that had sat in the back of her mind. "Peeta, we….we must ensure no one else learns of us. Enough know already, and it would not be beneficial to either of us for any more to find out."

Peeta nodded reluctantly. "I know I expressed my desire to court you, and however much I wish to do so officially, I know right now is not the time to announce that." Katniss was hesitant to tell him she doubted there would _ever_ be a right time. "But give it time, and allow us to spend as many moments together as possible while I am here. We shall worry about anything more when the time comes." He squeezed her gently, before reluctantly breaking their embrace. "You should go now. We have both been gone for long enough, I believe, and I should go and ensure Finnick is suitably settled. Make your way back through the woods from whence we came. I will move alongside the fountain down to the main house."

Katniss nodded, straightening her rumpled apron as she stepped back. She rubbed her hands up and down her arms, cold now with the loss of his embrace. "When will we, uh…when…" she trailed off, ashamed at the fact that the neediness she was trying to hide was evident in her voice. _When would they see each other again?_

Peeta smiled, and slipped a hand into his coat pocket. "I shall get word to you, my love, just like always." And with a wink over his shoulder, he was gone.

* * *

The formal dining room was opulent, bedecked in china and crystal, the gleaming chandelier hanging above them darting glimmers of light around the room. The walls – painted a dark, demanding red – held artwork hundreds of years older than Peeta. They were the one thing he appreciated in this room, otherwise as abundant and over-dressed as the rest of the house. Even with four people situated around the lengthy mahogany table, it still seemed as empty as it had when he had dined on his own.

He listened with half an ear to Finnick being grilled by the Duke and Duchess, thankful for once that it was not him. Bringing Finnick with him for a week gave him a guaranteed reprieve of any and all conversations with his mother. Why would she deign to speak to Peeta – disappointing her on every level from his enjoyment of university to his lack of wife – when there was someone as charming as Finnick to converse with?

"And Finnick? What will your plans be once you have completed your studies?" Finnick swallowed the morsel of perfectly prepared beef, placing his knife and fork down beside his plate.

"I will be returning to help my father run our estate, your Grace. Our plans are to merge our estate with a neighbouring one and that will take up much of my time. Of course, I shall also be spending quite a bit of time in London, overseeing our property and business there."

"Yes, of course," The Duke replied. "I hear your father has involved himself in the shipping business."

"News travels fast," Finnick said smoothly. "My father is always on the lookout for a good opportunity and I am indeed looking forward to it."

"And what of marriage?" Lady Mary butted in, staring at Finnick intently. Peeta exchanged a small grimace with his father, who turned in frustration to his wife.

"Now, Mary, let us not pester the man about such matters," Henry scolded good-naturedly.

"So it is suitable to talk of business at our table but not of other matters of his future?" The Duchess speared another slim, bright green stem of asparagus, carefully chewing it approximately 6 times before swallowing. Peeta rolled his eyes discreetly as she looked back up at them expectantly. "Well?"

"I have plans to wed the young lady of the house in our neighbouring estate," Finnick replied simply, picking up his knife and fork and resuming eating. Peeta looked at him in surprise. Why had his friend, who had never been so forthcoming with his feelings with him, so happily revealed them to The Duchess? He caught the haughty look his mother sent his way.

"Well that is good news. At least you seem to have your priorities in place, unlike others in a similar position to yourself. I am sure your parents will be pleased to know you are preparing to carry on the family line."

"I suppose so," Finnick replied, sending a grin Peeta's way before turning back to the Duchess, "But my father has had no problem with me whiling my time away at Cambridge either. He knows it will all come in good time."

"And so it shall," The Duke replied, with a tone that all but commanded the discussion be over. The Duchess fumed in her seat, obviously begging to continue the conversation, but not willing to go against the Duke's subtle command.

Dinner continued, bereft of conversation, until Peeta and Finnick found themselves mercifully excused. They could not have exited the lavish room quickly enough.

"My goodness, Peeta, you were not wrong about the Duchess," Finnick observed as they moved through the wide corridor towards the closest library.

"That is but a small taste of how she can be. But I must say you were quite free in your comments to her, and your intentions of marriage." Peeta stepped through the wide doors, noted the under butler already waiting for them, tray of tumblers and port decanter at the ready. He nodded to him subtly, taking a seat in front of the warm fire, and gesturing for Finnick to take the one opposite him. They waited for their drinks to be poured, and for Peeta to dismiss the butler, before resuming their conversation. He raised an eyebrow. "Well? You have not been so honest with me."

"Ah, Peeta, you know I have a reputation to uphold back at university," Finnick winked. "And I knew the easiest way for the Duchess to not continue with her line of questioning was to be up front about it."

"So all those protestations, even when it was just the two of us, were for nothing but show. I have been right in my assumptions, of you and the Lady Anne. "

"Annie," Finnick corrected with a small grin. He sipped at his glass. "Yes, you are correct. I will be one of those chaps we always made fun of at the beginning of each term who came back betrothed, for I plan to propose at Christmas."

"And you believe she will say yes?"

Finnick nodded, and Peeta felt his heart twist in jealousy at the look of contentment that drifted across his friends face. Here was a man quite obviously in love with someone who he _could_ be in love with, with no fear of repercussions. No matter how much bravado Peeta liked to show, it was something that weighed constantly on his mind.

Finnick raised an eyebrow, smirking at Peeta over the top of his glass. "But enough about Annie, because we are at Chatsworth, and I want to know when I am going to get the opportunity to meet the lady who has been keeping _you_ occupied these last few months."

"It may be difficult, Finnick," Peeta replied. "You know the quandary I am in. It is not as if I could simply host an afternoon tea and invite her, you do realise. And I do remember our last conversation you were warning me to not get carried away."

Finnick shrugged. "That still stands. That does not mean I do not want to meet her. In fact….I would dearly like to see what she thought of the photo you sent her. See if I live up to the expectations that would have built up in her head."

Peeta chuckled and rolled his eyes. "I highly doubt she looked at you at all."

"Oh really now?" Finnick grinned

Peeta smiled to himself, looking into the crackling fire. "I would like to think she only had eyes for me."

"We shall find out soon enough I suppose," Finnick replied.

"We shall," Peeta agreed. He stood, straightening the length of his jacket as he did so. "But in the meantime, I have organised some of the other boys here for cards in the carriage house. Care to join us?"

Placing his glass on the small table between their chairs, Finnick rose to his feet. "I do not know anyone who would turn down an offer like that. What are we waiting for?"

* * *

Peeta struck the match, holding it to the end of the cigar clamped firmly between Finnick's teeth. The other man grinned, before breathing in deeply.

"Ah, that is exactly what I needed after dinner with your Mother, old chap," he smirked, expelling a stream of smoke with his words. Haymitch slugged back a shot of whisky, before wrapping a hand around the tumbler by his elbow and pouring another fifth into the glass.

"If a cigar is all you need, then you got off lightly," he retorted grimly, causing Finnick to choke on his own laugh.

"Oh, Peeta, you were not wrong about him, not wrong at all." He nodded happily, picking up the cards that had been dealt to him. "I think we are going to get along famously."

Haymitch returned his stare blandly, then thumped his hand on the table. "Bloody hell, Hawthorne, get your arse in here, would you? We've got cards to play!"

Peeta smiled to himself, looking down at the cards he had been dealt. _This_ is what he missed when he was away at Cambridge. Not the pomp and circumstance, not the dinners the Duchess insisted on hosting, or the hunting parties that continually made use of the estates grounds. It was _this_, the laid back, sometimes snarky camaraderie that he had with Gale and Haymitch. Having Finnick join them for a late night round of cards and cigars was simply a bonus.

Gale stalked out of a doorway at the end of a short hall, planting himself in the chair between Haymitch and Peeta, and scrubbed his hand through his hair.

"Bloody hell, Haymitch, calm down. The cards aren't going nowhere," Gale grumbled.

"No, but I have to get up before the bloody sun does, so I have no time for your dilly dallying."

Peeta laughed, tapping his cards on the table. "If only the Duke could hear you now, Abernathy," he teased. "All that prim and proper butler out the window."

Haymitch rolled his eyes. "All that prim and proper butler went out the window the minute I started keeping an eye on you, boy."

Banter –both crass and biting – continued through round after round of cards. More whisky was drunk than wise, more insults thrown than necessary. And Peeta, in all honesty, could not be happier.

"You're bleeding me dry," Finnick slurred, pointing a finger at Gale, who simply smirked back at him.

"I got to stick it to the man somehow," Gale retorted. "May as well start with you."

Finnick laughed, blowing out another stream of smoke. "Another liberal like Peeta here, are you?"

Gale shrugged, throwing his cards on the table, declaring himself out of the hand. "I just don't think we have to be happy with what we've got. We can aspire to more, you know, even without being born with plums in our mouths."

Haymitch rolled his eyes. "Oh for crying out loud, Hawthorne, he is yanking your chain. Odair here has a father who is the most bloody liberal Earl I have heard of in my life. I am surprised the Duchess was nice to you at all knowing who your father is."

"She is also aware of how influential my father is in London, so I would say that definitely has something to do with her…sunny disposition towards me," Finnick replied with a smirk. "Plus, she thinks highly of me now that I confirmed I am going to do one better than her son and marry."

"Oh, I bet she loved that," Gale mused, a small smile tugging on his lips. "You've no idea how many times we hear her moan and complain about how incompetent you are in that area of your life, Peeta."

"Well he certainly would not tell her about Ka-" Finnick began, before he noted Peeta's eyes widening.

Haymitch groaned. "Oh good lord, Peeta. Tell me you have not told him about your little crush on the maid as well."

"It is not a _little crush_," Peeta huffed. "What I feel for Katniss is very real. And reciprocated."

"Oh is it now?" Haymitch leaned back in his seat, eyeing the young man beadily. Finnick and Gale watched on in amusement. "And how are you so sure about that?"

"She has told me so."

"Really? While you have been all the way down at Cambridge?"

"Yes, I…" Peeta trailed off, aware that he was about to reveal their communications to him. He sighed. "We exchanged letters to each other while I was away."

Haymitch spluttered out the whisky he had begun to swallow. "Peeta, have you thought nothing of the repercussions? What if someone had found your letters? What if they fell into the hands of the Duchess? I warned you _months ago_, to think carefully about this."

"Yes, and you told me to get to know her better," Peeta shot back, his eyes fiery. "So I did, and I _have_ thought carefully about it, and I _want_ to be with Katniss and she wants to be with me."

"Christ almighty, Peeta. You will never be able to tell the Duke and Duchess."

"Father will understand."

"The Duchess sure as hell will not."

"I do not care," Peeta retorted. He felt as if he was repeating himself over and over again, the same thing to the same people. When would they understand? "I am the Marquess of Hartington, future Duke of Devonshire. I should be able to do what I wish and marry who I want to."

"Not while your mother is alive," Haymitch snapped, before closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. "Boy, we have had this conversation before and I do not doubt we will have it again. You know I want you to be happy. But just…be careful. Both of you need to be careful."

Peeta nodded, the fire in him dissipating as quickly as it grew. "I know. I appreciate it. And we will be, I assure you."

Haymitch shrugged, then picked up his cards. "Alright, let us get back to this, before I start to grill Hawthorne here on his involvement with these damned letters. Because I sure as hell know he had something to do with it." Both Peeta and Finnick laughed at Gale's audible gulp as he sunk a little lower in his chair.

* * *

Sleep hadn't come for her, though she should not have been surprised. Her mind – whether she liked it or not – had been occupied with thoughts of Peeta for the rest of the afternoon and throughout the evening. But she had at least managed to hold suitable enough conversations with those who asked her questions during the time, and no one seemed none the wiser to her preoccupation.

Katniss sat on a bench tucked away in gardens not too far from the kitchen, wrapped up in her heaviest coat, her breath steaming out in front of her through the cold air. It did not bother her - she needed the fresh air; the air in her room had been stifling, and every time she had thought of Peeta, it had gotten worse. So she had bundled up and moved outside, hoping the cool and quiet and the smell of the outdoors would help ease her mind.

So far, it had not worked.

She had run the gamut of second guessing her decision, to ruing not taking the chance so much earlier. And in between that, she had relived every moment of their kisses earlier. If there was one thing she could not deny, it was the fact that the young heir was a _very_ good kisser. Not that she had very much experience to base it upon, but the way he had made her feel left very little doubt.

Taking a deep breath, and closing her eyes, she tried to remember how she had felt in his arms. And was startled when she heard his voice, deep and loud and exuberant.

And slightly slurred.

Eyes wide, she slid to the furthest end of the bench, into the shadows and out of the light of the moon, where she could not be seen. And watched as Peeta and Finnick – for it was surely him, he was the spitting image of the man beside Peeta in the photograph – made their way through the far end of the garden.

"Shhhhh, Peeta," Finnick scolded. "What if the bloody Duchess hears you?"

"I do not care! And do not speak of my mother that way!" Peeta wagged a finger at him. "If anyone is going to, it will be me." They chuckled, both louder than what they probably thought, and collapsed onto one of the benches just out of Katniss' view.

"Just stop for a moment," Finnick begged. "I need some fresh air before we go inside."

"Fresh air?" Peeta asked. "Frozen air more like it. It chills me to the bone."

"Think of your lady love – that should warm you in no time." Katniss could hear the smirk in his voice, even as she covered her mouth in surprise. _Was he talking about her?_

"Oh Finnick, she does, and more. I cannot tell you how wonderful it was to see her today. And for her to accept my proposal-"

"Your what?" Finnick interrupted, his voice high-pitched in shock. Peeta chuckled.

"No, not that kind of proposal – though I do not argue that right now when I think of her I cannot think of a better question to put to her."

Katniss mouth dropped open. He could not possibly be saying what she _thought_ he was saying?

"You are obviously drunk," Finnick berated him, and Katniss nodded her head frantically to herself in agreement.

"I am merely….mildly intoxicated. Why should I not want her for a wife? I think of naught but her."

"I think of naught but that bloody race, but it does not mean that I will be marrying our boat any time soon."

Peeta chuckled, and she could hear the scuffing of feet against the rocky pathway. "Finn, after your revelation at dinner this evening, I cannot believe that you think of nothing but a boat race. And what is so wrong with my declaration anyway?"

She heard Finnick sigh. "Peeta, have you drunk so much you cannot remember the warnings we have all given you? You must tread carefully, and so easily making comments about asking Katniss to be your bride is…..it is just too soon."

"Fine. Have it your way," Peeta huffed. "Forget I ever said anything to you. But it does not change the fact that I love Katniss, nor will that fact change itself. Now, for goodness sake, this cold and this conversation has sobered me. Let us go inside before we freeze to death."

Katniss sat still and quiet as she heard them continue to make their way through the garden, through the servants entry she knew Peeta preferred to use after he had visited with Gale, as she could only assume that was where they had come from.

Her mind whirled as she reencountered the words Peeta had spoken, of her, of love, of _marriage_. While yes, she could not deny her feelings ran as deep as love for him, she had never imagined his ran just as deep. And marriage…..it was simply trouble waiting to happen. The Duchess – nor the Duke, no matter how pleasant an employer he was – would never approve. She laid a hand on her chest, feeling her heart pound under it. And couldn't decide whether her overpowering emotion was happiness or dread.

* * *

Days were busy with tasks for Katniss, hunting trips and games of billiards for Peeta. They saw each other when they could – a stolen kiss in an unused parlour, a lingering glance across the room when she hurried between duties, a brush of hand when they found themselves in the library at the same time. She chose not to reveal to him that she had heard his conversation with Finnick, if only not to put the thoughts in his head again.

Her meeting with Finnick was fleeting, a catching of eyes across the library. They both dipped their head in recognition, though the presence of the Duke in the room put a stop to any further interaction. But she had to admit in the light of day he certainly did live up to his photograph, and took great joy in telling Peeta of this. He had laughed, and promised they would meet – properly – before Finnick's visit drew to a close the following week.

One of the many unused rooms in the house became the primary place of their clandestine meetings, in what had once been used as a study, but long forgotten, tucked away in one of the corners of the house. Even with additional guests such as Finnick, there were days when it was not at all difficult to not come across another person throughout the vastness of the house. They would spend hours talking, or not talking at all, with hurried, burning kisses giving promises for things they were not even sure they could keep.

"I hate that we have to hide ourselves," Peeta whispered to her, while they were tucked into a chaise that had been built more for aesthetic than comfort. They sat side by side, Peeta's arm tucked around her shoulder. She had never sat as close to a man before as she did with Peeta, and if anyone had ever seen them, they would be scolded immediately for their impropriety. For some reason she heard Ms Trinket's voice in her head every time she thought of it. _Young women do not put themselves into such situations, unless they are asking for trouble._

And while Katniss was not looking for trouble, she wondered whether it was such a bad thing if a little bit of it found her.

"We do not have any other choice," Katniss replied softly. "If we wish to keep this as quiet as we can, we have to." She froze a little as she felt Peeta shift towards her, but forced herself to relax. No one was going to find them, it was fine. And she could not deny that she had not been thinking of his kisses for most of the day. His breath was warm on her neck, and she closed her eyes as she felt his lips rest gently on the sensitive skin just below her ear.

She stretched, allowing more ease of access to him, and he hummed in approval. And the vibrations that thrummed down her neck and through to the tips of her fingers and toes made her eyes close and a faint sigh to escape her lips. He took it as an invitation, and moved his other arm around her, drawing her closer and tasting his way along her jawline before sliding his mouth across hers.

Her fingers clenched tightly in her lap, before her hand almost instinctively reached up to grasp at the arm that had wound around her. It was strong, muscular and firm, from hours of rowing and training and she was almost shocked at the thrill that coursed through her at the thought of that arm wrapping around her, pulling her to him, holding her against him for hours at a time.

One kiss became two, two became three. And as the moon rose high in the sky and owls hooted through the woods, Katniss and Peeta, just for a moment, let go of their worries and focused on nothing but the other.

* * *

Light of step, his heart still pounding and his lips swollen from kisses more demanding than he had intended, Peeta moved down the hallway to his quarters. He knew they needed to stop their middle of the night rendezvous, but he could not help himself. It was the only way they could keep it just between themselves – as much as they could, with their friends already aware – and avoid being found out. But he was awaking every day exhausted, and he knew Katniss would be the same. Only _she_ had obligations from dawn til dusk, and he knew the more he took of her time, the more it could affect her responsibilities.

But he could not help it if he could not go a day without seeing her, without wrapping his arms around her and forgetting the differences that prevented them from being more open about their relationship. His body yearned for hers, but he knew moving too quickly would likely startle Katniss, and so he bided his time. She simply needed that herself, he thought. Soon he would be able to convince her that they should not hide their love any longer, and his mother, and the Duchy, be damned. If society was going to be so narrow minded, then they did not deserve a future Duchess in the form of Katniss Everdeen.

Peeta crept into his room, singing a little under his breath, closing the door quietly behind him. He was thankful for the low burning lights that had been turned on earlier, and managed to make his way over to his bed without tripping over his own feet or a piece of useless furniture. And whirled at the sound of a throat clearing.

"Did you have a good evening, Peeta?" his father asked, rising from the stiff chaise at the other end of the room.

"Er..yes, your Grace, I did," he replied, confused as to what the Duke was doing in his quarters this late at night.

"Splendid. Now, Peeta, I believe we need to speak about something." His father moved around so that he was facing Peeta directly, nothing but the foot of the bed between them. Peeta dipped his head in acknowledgment, then saw what his father held in his hand. His heart dropped.

_Katniss' letters._

The Duke glanced down at the pile of letters he clutched tightly, and sighed.

"I believe you have some explaining to do, young man."

* * *

**A/N - Thank you for your follows, favourites and reviews. They mean so much, to know that you're enjoying this story! **

**The Marquess of Hartington is the subsidiary title of the Duchy, used by the oldest son of the Duke of Devonshire :)**

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	10. Chapter 10

Peeta ran through in his head the words Katniss had written in her letters. He had read them so often, he had almost memorised them perfectly; their tone, their inflection, the way he could imagine her reading them aloud to him – or singing them to him in her lilting voice. He thought about her first letter, her last letter, and breathed a sigh of relief knowing that Katniss had been nowhere near as forthcoming as he had in his own letters to her. He had to be careful how he spoke, how he reacted. If he seemed indifferent, he could – perhaps – convince his father it was nothing. It seemed the safest route to take.

"I see you have found my letters," Peeta replied smoothly, reaching up to loosen his necktie. The Duke simply raised an eyebrow in return. "Is there cause for concern, father?"

"You will have to tell me." His father's voice was firm, but resigned.

"You know I have good friendships amongst the staff," Peeta shrugged, pulling the tie free and setting it on the bed.

"And I have turned a blind eye to most of them, for both Abernathy and Gale are harmless. But a housemaid, Peeta, is not the correct company to keep." The Duke paced towards the unframed window, staring out to the snow-covered gardens that were almost invisible in the dark moonlight. "Your mother and I did not raise you to fraternise so frivolously, Peeta. If word of such a friendship was to make its way beyond the estate, can you imagine the rumours that would-"

"I do not care about rumours," Peeta interrupted, his voice steady while his heart pounded in terror. "There is nothing for you to be concerned about, or take interest in. You have not before, so I do not understand your sudden concern now."

The Duke turned back to him sharply, eyes narrowed. "My 'sudden concern'? I am always concerned for your welfare and your place in society."

"Yes, my place in society," Peeta repeated. He removed his jacket, flung it over the back of the small loveseat. "That is the most important aspect, of course."

His father breathed deeply – the only visible sign he showed of his growing frustration – and folded his arms behind his back. "You know your responsibilities to your title, to this estate, Peeta. You need to respect that, just as much as I have done, as my father did, as our ancestors did. I simply ask you to think about your actions carefully. I do not doubt you would not be the first Duke who has dallied with a maid, but do not let her become too attached to you. You have expectations of you; it is one of the few things that your mother and I can agree upon, though I do not agree with her way of applying them."

"There is nothing for you to be concerned with," Peeta reiterated. "Do you see any proclamations of love in those letters? No. We are simply friends. Her letters kept me apprised of goings on here at the estate, and gave me comfort when I missed home." His eyes darkened, and he fought to keep his voice steady. "And do I need to ask how you found the letters?" He had been so sure they would never be found, tucked away in his drawer with his rowing costume. No-one ever looked in there, and he certainly had not used it since his return to the estate.

"No, I do not see any proclamations of love, though there are certainly some intimate comments and a sense of familiarity in them that is not socially acceptable. And how I came to obtain them is none of your concern. Your only concern is to ensure that this does not develop into anything more than a passing friendship – as you are so adamantly trying to convince me that is all it is."

"That is all it is," Peeta replied firmly, though he inwardly cringed at the blatant lie. He watched as his father studied him, with eyes that had once been the same bright blue as his, but had dimmed considerably over the last few years. They were now soft and quiet, but they belied a strength that had garnered the Duke respect from within their social circle, along with many in London. He was a fair man, considered to be a good employer concerned with the welfare of the estate and those who lived there. But such a reputation had a downfall, and society's demands of so much of the Duke's time had led to a lack of closeness between father and son. They had at least held a cordial relationship with each other, much more than Peeta had with his mother - that either of them had had with the Duchess, in all honesty. But he had at times over his formative years wished he could speak with his father more freely, divulge to him his deepest fears, the things that brought him joy, his yearning for a marriage borne of love, not status.

But instead, he had had Haymitch for that. And the man in front of him had no understanding as to why Peeta would fall in love with Katniss.

"Very well then, if you insist. But I shall be keeping an eye on you. I cannot afford a whiff of scandal, Peeta, and neither can you. Not when you are so close to completing your studies at Cambridge, and beginning to become more involved in the day to day business of the estate." He nodded swiftly, and moved from the room, shutting the door firmly behind him.

Peeta fell backwards onto his bed, staring up at the folds of fabric that draped over it, his heart pounding even harder than it had when he had had Katniss in his arms not more than fifteen minutes ago.

For his sake, for _Katniss'_ sake, they needed to be even more careful now than they had before.

* * *

Peeta knocked incessantly on Haymitch's door early the next morning, before the sun had risen, while the air was still frozen and damp. He could hear the shuffling of feet, the cursing as a thud sounded. The door flew open, Haymitch reaching down and grasping a toe he must have stubbed on his way to the door.

"What do you want? It had better be good, for I had another ten minutes before I had to be on my way," he grumbled, glaring at Peeta.

"Did you tell him?" Peeta blurted without preamble.

"Did I tell who what?"

"The Duke. Did you tell him of the letters Katniss and I shared?"

Haymitch rolled his eyes and straightened. "No, I did not. I have far more important things to do around the house than gossip with His Grace." He sighed. "But I take it he now knows?"

"He confronted me in my quarters last night. With Katniss' letters in hand."

Eyebrow raised, Haymitch ushered Peeta into his room, closing the door behind him. His hands returned to buttoning up his vest – what Peeta had obviously interrupted him doing – while he studied the young heir. "How did he find out about those then?"

"You tell me," Peeta retorted. "Not very many know about them."

"I should be offended you coming to my room making accusations," Haymitch grunted, dropping into the armchair and beginning to put on the shiny leather shoes that formed part of his uniform. "But as I am the mostly likely suspect, I do not blame you. But I take no responsibility for this one, boy. Not me."

"Then who?"

Haymitch shrugged. "Finnick? Gale? Madge? You say not many know of the letters, but that is already 3 more people who know than who should. Perhaps it was no-one. The Duke is a shrewd man – all he would have had to have seen was the two of you exchanging those puppy-dog looks in the library and it would be obvious. Where did you hide these letters?"

"In my drawer, where I keep my rowing costume."

The bark of laughter was unexpected and caught Peeta by surprise. "You are more like your father than you will ever know." He pulled himself to his feet and moved to the side table, lifting the pocket watch sitting there and slipping it into the pocket of his trousers. "Let me tell you something. Your father was a young man once too, and loved someone very much like you love Katniss. While she was of suitable and proper breeding, your grandfathers – both maternal and paternal – had already organised a match with the Duchess, and going back on this agreement would have caused a scandal for both families. It did not prevent your father, however, from exchanging letters of his own with the young woman – and hiding them in the pocket of his hunting coat. If he had his suspicions, Peeta, all he had to do was think of what _he_ would do – and your favourite pastime."

Peeta's mouth had dropped open halfway through Haymitch's speech. His father, the Duke…..in love with _another_? Then surely he would understand Peeta's predicament.

"How do you know this?" he asked incredulously.

Haymitch shrugged uncomfortably. "You know I have been at this estate many years, boy, started from the bottom of the rung. You are aware as much I as I am how the staff like to gossip."

"But why have you not told me of this before? And if Father knows what it is like to _love_, why would he not understand? How could he enter into such a loveless marriage after experiencing that?"

"It was never relevant before. And it does not matter if he understands it, or that he experienced it. He knew his place, what was required of him and fulfilled his duty - _that_ is what matters. You already know all of this." He sighed, reaching for his black coat and slipping it across his shoulders. "I suppose you talked your way out of it if you are still alive and I have not had bloody Effie knocking down my door telling me we have lost another employee."

Peeta, still distracted by the knowledge of his fathers' past relationship, shrugged. "Katniss' letters were quite formal. There was nothing in them to suggest impropriety."

"Yet," Haymitch retorted, and as Peeta glanced up at him, he noted Haymitch had finished dressing and was the perfect _image_ of a respectable butler. He turned towards the door, opened it, and gestured for Peeta to leave. "Now for god's sake boy, go and find a better hiding place for your letters. The last thing I need is for you barging in here on me every day."

* * *

Katniss plumped the pillow once, twice, trying to get it to sit perfectly at the base of the dark mahogany headboard. But no matter how many times she tweaked the edges, or smoothed the soft, silky fabric of, it still did not sit the way she wanted it to.

And then she rolled her eyes, for if she could not be honest with herself, who could she be honest with? The only reason she was still here was for Peeta.

Attending to his bedroom that morning had been on her list of duties, and she was drawing out her time in there as long as possible in the hope he would return. Because she had not seen him for two days, his time occupied by Finnick and estate duties, and she struggled to comprehend how much she missed the feeling of his arms around her. It was ridiculous really, the time she spent thinking about him, equally matched by the amount of hours she spent worrying of them being caught. It was a never ending cycle of happiness followed by fear.

Her ears were trained for any noise, and she quickly returned to smoothing the sheets as she heard footsteps outside the door. She glanced at it out of the corner of her eye and it swung open slowly, a mass of blonde waves appearing around the corner. She breathed a sigh of relief and straightened as a grin crossed Peeta's face and he closed the door behind him. He strode across the room briskly, meeting her at the foot of the bed, framing her face with his hands and kissing her hungrily. Her arms floundered, hung limply at her sides as he devoured her, as two days apart spilled into his kiss.

She pressed closer to him, chest to chest, hip to hip through layer upon layer of clothing, and tentatively raised her arms up his back, clutching at his shoulder blades, the muscles built by hours of training rolling and shifting under her hands. It was times like these, when she could think of nothing but _him_, which she was worried they would be caught in.

Katniss pulled away, resting a hand on the foot of his bed, raising the other to her pounding heart. "We must control ourselves," she said in a strangled whisper.

"I have not seen you in two days, Katniss. I could think of nothing else I wanted to do," He replied, his breath coming thick and fast.

"But not in here, Peeta. What if the Duchess came past?"

"She is not here," he replied blithely, but he still took a step back, straightening his jacket. "But you have a point that I have to respect." He sighed, studying her, and she blushed under his intense gaze. "I have missed you and I am sorry I have been so occupied these past few days. I could not take it a moment longer, and sought Madge out the moment I was free this morning to learn of your whereabouts. It is only luck that you were here."

She shook her head, embarrassed. "Not only luck, Peeta. I have been terribly slow with my duties this morning, in the blind hope you would come back here."

He grinned again, lighting fast, and reached for again. "Do not say things like that and expect me to turn away." He tucked her face into the crook of his neck, his arms wrapping tightly around her waist, and sighed. "I have missed you so. The last few days have been a whirlwind, filled with both good and bad."

"Bad?" she queried, ignoring her inner warning and slipping her arms around him. She felt him falter, before shaking his head.

"It is nothing to be concerned about, my love, just a situation between the Duke and myself. It is not anything I cannot handle."

"Does it affect the estate?"

"In a way, yes. But as I said, do not worry. I have it perfectly in hand, there is nothing to worry of." He shifted so her head moved from his chest, and he lifted a hand to her cheek. "All that matters is that we have seen each other, and that we plan when we can again. I have no desire to not see you for two days."

Katniss worried her bottom lip between her teeth. "You have Viscount Thompson and Lady Delilah's wedding tomorrow. And the rest of the week will be busy for me, preparing for next weekends' ball."

"The week will not be as busy that we will not be able to meet for moments here and there, I guarantee it. Tomorrow, indeed, will be difficult, but we will find time for the rest of the week."

"If you say so." Katniss glanced towards the door and sighed. "I must be on my way. I have additional duties to attend to, and then I must go to the kitchens to assist Sae." She extracted herself from his arms and moved towards the door. With her hand on the doorknob, she turned to him and offered him a small smile. "Until next time, Peeta."

"Until next time," he agreed.

* * *

"Such a _lovely_ wedding, was it not?"

"Simply divine. Lady Delilah looked perfect. And it is certainly of no surprise that the Duchess has not appeared. I heard she was absolutely wretched with despair that the wedding was not one to be held at Chatsworth, and not be for her own son."

"That is nothing different, as the Duchess is in a _permanent _state of despair!" The two women tittered, oblivious to the fact that Peeta stood behind them, disinterested, but overhearing their words regardless. Some people, he thought, had no manners, though their class should have demanded it.

With a roll of his shoulders, he moved further into the room, away from gossiping ladies, and towards where he saw Delilah and her new husband happily greeting guests. The smile she directed to him was warm and welcoming, and they tipped their heads in greeting.

"Congratulations to you, Lady Delilah. Or should I call you Viscountess Thompson?" She blushed, her smile only growing wider.

"Oh, Peeta, you know I will always be Delly to you. But I shall never mind the Duchess referring to me by my new title." They both laughed, and the Viscount turned to them, resting a hand lightly on his new wife's waist. He was a tall man, with dark hair that waved across his forehead, eyes that reminded Peeta of the soot that settled at the bottom of a fireplace and a gentle smile. Peeta could not deny the sheer happiness that radiated from him.

"Thank you for coming, my Lord," Viscount Thompson greeted, and Peeta brushed it aside.

"Thompson, we have known each other for too many years to revert to pomp and circumstance, especially on a day such as today." They shared a laugh.

"Well, we are both pleased yourself and the Duke were able to attend. It is a shame the Duchess was too ill." Peeta and Delly exchanged a look, and he returned his attention to Thompson.

"Yes, it is a shame she was unable to be here. She does enjoy a celebration such as a wedding."

"I can imagine she is wishing for it to be yours," Thompson replied with a raised eyebrow, and Peeta could not help the smirk that spread across his face.

"She is not very happy with you on that front," Peeta teased.

"I do not suppose she is," the Viscount said, laughter dancing merrily in his eyes, because it was not unknown to any of them of the Duchess' wishes. "But it has all worked out for the best in our opinions, I dare say."

"Hush now, I should never have brought her up," Delly interrupted with a self-depreciating smile. "I shall not have my day spoiled by talking of the Duchess and her silly notions."

"You are quite right, Delly," Peeta replied. "And you have more guests to greet. Allow me to let them through, and I will continue to mingle. Congratulations to both of you." He tipped his head again, and moved away, through to where a buffet was piled high with cakes and pastries and sweets. He appreciated Delly and Thompson's decision to have their wedding and reception at their estate, as was customary, and enjoyed the opportunity to see those he had not visited with since his return from Cambridge.

But attending a wedding did nothing but fill his thoughts with Katniss, for what could or could not be.

He knew - although he ignored the knowledge more often than not – that the Duke and Duchess would not agree to such a match. Not without significant change in their way of thinking, of the way society demanded he be wed. Now that he had admitted out loud to Finnick the seriousness of his feelings, it was all he could do not to think of it. He wondered, vaguely, if Katniss ever thought of it, but in her practicality, he doubted it. She would not wish for things she did not believe she could have. Having her allow him court her was one thing, had been a large enough obstacle to overcome. Convincing her of marriage was another thing entirely. He simply knew he had to bide his time – for himself, for the Duke and Duchess, and for Katniss.

"My Lord, how wonderful to see you." The voice was sickly sweet, overly polite – and desperately trying to sound flirtatious. Only years of etiquette prevented him from rolling his eyes as he turned to face the woman behind him.

"Lady Annabelle," he greeted. She blushed, brushing a stray black curl that had escaped over her ear. "It is a pleasure to see you again."

"Oh my, you are too kind," she replied under a flutter of eyelashes. Flirting was something Lady Annabelle Clover Roderick did not do well, and he smothered a laugh with a slight cough. Somehow, even her most becoming tones made it sound as though she wished for death itself to be upon you.

"Not at all," he replied smoothly, "For it has been enjoyable reacquainting myself with those I have not seen since my return from Cambridge."

"Indeed. And the Duke and Duchess, they are well?" She shifted slightly, bringing her body closer to his, her fingertips resting lightly on his shoulder. "I have seen neither of them today."

"My father is here, and hale and hearty. The Duchess is, alas, ill, and was dreadfully disappointed to miss Lady Delilah's wedding."

"I am sure she was," Lady Annabelle replied, her voice edged in sarcasm, her hand dropping from his shoulder. It seemed even Lady Annabelle was aware of the various attempts at matchmaking the Duchess had made. She was able to reign herself in almost immediately, however, letting out a soft breath between pursed lips, her following sentence laced in sweetness. "I would very much like to invite you for tea, for it has been so long since we did so. Would Wednesday afternoon be suitable?"

"I am afraid not," Peeta replied, adding as much regret to his voice as he could.

"Thursday?" She pressed.

Peeta glanced down at her, at the smattering of freckles that covered her cheeks that could be seen as flattering if not for the shrewd dark eyes above them that glowered more than glowed. In so many ways she reminded him of the Duchess – not only for the temper she was nowhere near as adept at hiding as his mother was – and he understood why she would push for such a match.

He could think of nothing worse.

"Dear Lady Annabelle, I do not foresee a suitable date this week. Nor the next, for the estate will be busy leading into Christmastime."

"My lord, I would believe you do not wish to take tea with me," Lady Annabelle replied through clenched teeth. _Ah, here it is. The famed Roderick temper_.

"I only mean to advise that I will be unavailable."

"For the foreseeable future," she snapped.

This was not the first time they had had this conversation, and if he allowed it to continue, he doubted it would be the last. He had always let her down gently, had occasionally relented and taken tea with her and her mother, though the incessant hints by Lady Roderick on marriage during those times had always made him regret it. This time, Peeta wondered how honest he should be, or whether he should continue to let her pursue him repeatedly, more than likely at his own mothers' request. He decided, despite the tongue lashing he knew he would receive in the coming week from the Duchess, that honesty was the best policy.

"I am afraid so," he replied, trying to sound apologetic and sincere. "Lady Annabelle, I do not doubt that one day you will make a wonderful wife to a man who will cherish you every day. However, at this stage of my life, I cannot commit to that. My studies are first and foremost my priority, and I do not wish to do you a disservice by having you wait."

Her mouth dropped open as she sputtered. "But..but….we have had you as a guest in our home. The Duchess and my mother….." She trailed off, pink spots of anger and embarrassment appearing on her cheeks. Her hand clutched at his wrist, fingers digging into the flesh beneath the cuff of his coat.

"I am sorry Lady Annabelle," he said gently, prying her fingers away. "Please, let us not cause a scene on such a joyous occasion."

"I shall cause a scene if I wish," she hissed. Manners and years of training were the only thing that stopped her from striking him, he knew. And was thankful he had had this conversation with her in public.

Turning on her heel, she flounced away, her incoherent grumbles echoing across the room. As a number of women eyed him curiously, and men looked on in relief that it was not them, Peeta caught the eye of his father, and sighed at the resigned look on his face.

The carriage ride home was not going to be a pleasant one.

* * *

"Did he not tell you anything more?"

Katniss shook her head at Madge that evening as they rested on her bed. It had been a long day, one where the Duchess had been on a furious turn about the house with the Duke and Peeta at the Viscounts wedding. Nothing had been polished correctly, cooked sufficiently, _plumped_ properly, and the Duchess had let every person know it. As a result, the entire staff had been exhausted at dinner, barely a sentence uttered, and Katniss had still not found the time to share the conversation she had had with Peeta the day before with Madge. Or Johanna, but that was unlikely, as the young woman had promptly disappeared with Gale the minute dinner had ended.

Some things, Katniss mused, she was better off not knowing.

"No. All he said was that there was a situation between himself and the Duke, and that it affected the estate in some way."

"It could mean anything," Madge shrugged. "Perhaps it is related to the hunting parties that we have been holding recently. Or they may be discussing changes to the house, and may not agree. There are too many things it could be."

"Peeta and I?" Katniss asked, nibbling worriedly on her thumb.

"How would he find that out, Katniss? You have both been very careful. I have not heard a whiff of anything since his return, and some of the other staff are that nosy and gossipy I would have heard something by now."

"But…." Katniss trailed off and flushed as she remembered Peeta's drunken midnight conversation with Finnick. She had not shared that with Madge either, and thought it for the best, as the less who knew of Peeta's real feelings, the better. She shook her head. "So you do not think it was about us?"

Madge patted her knee gently. "I am certain of it. Do not fret, Katniss. If Ms Trinket has not confronted you about it by now – or the Duchess for that matter, for she had ample opportunity to do so today - I do not believe you have any cause for concern."

"I hope you are right, Madge," Katniss sighed. "I certainly hope you are right."

Later, after Madge had left, she slept, and dreamt. Of glistening chandeliers, of gleaming crystal, of delicate china. Of marble staircases, of plush carpets and exquisite paintings.

Of blue eyes moving over her, of a quickening in her belly, of a tow-headed boy and raven haired girl playing in the woods.

And woke, for the first time in her life, wishing a dream was real.

* * *

A/N - Thanks for all the reviews, follows and favourites. I am so incredibly thankful for how supportive you all are of this story.

You can find me on tumblr at sponsormusings :)


	11. Chapter 11

Katniss had never cared much for balls, or for parties, or even anything more than a simple gathering. She had always preferred the company of Prim, and of mother. She had never celebrated a birthday with more than the simplest of cakes, without any fanfare or fancy. Christmas had been the same, a simple dinner and an evening around the fire where they warded off the cold chill of the night. Gifts had been small, and mostly made by their own hand.

So the extravagance of the house – every library, every parlour and the magnificent ballroom – as it was decorated for the Christmas ball was beyond Katniss' wildest imagination. She thought it overindulgent and showy, but even as she curled her lip in distaste, her heart swelled a little at the beauty of it.

They had been preparing for days, frantic in pace, as they readied the house for the event. Hundreds would be in attendance, and if Katniss stopped to think of how much it would cost to host such an event, it made her head spin. So she tried not to, instead focusing on assisting in cleaning the house from top to bottom, so that every piece of marble gleamed and every gilded edge shone. Each night she had gone to bed exhausted, only to wake so few hours later to start again. She had not seen, nor spoken with Peeta in days, and the unfortunate timing of the ball meant she had to forgo her visit with mother and Prim.

In all, Katniss had not had a very positive week.

But now, as the event was finally in full swing and she had been advised in no uncertain terms by the Duchess that her services would not be required for the evening, she had little to do but sit, and keep herself at a distance from the festivities.

She tried to needlepoint, but found she thought it no less boring than she always had. She forced herself to play cards with Cato and Marvel, but after three rounds of inappropriate innuendo, she threw up her hands in defeat and slunk back to her room in frustration. And as both Madge and Johanna were assisting with the ball, she felt herself feeling lonely for the first time since she had arrived at Chatsworth.

Loneliness had not been something that had bothered her before. She had never had many friends, and therefore had not had much need to socialise or fraternise with others. But after months at Chatsworth, she had found herself used to the constant noise of chatter, of Madge and Johanna bickering, of Haymitch mumbling in the kitchen, of Ms Trinket stalking through the halls seeing to their work. She would still escape to the woods when it became too much, but she had found as time went on it was more of a reminder of home, than a necessity for her peace of mind.

Tonight, however, the silence was deafening.

Bundling up in her coat, she stole from the staff quarters, careful to avoid the hallways bustling with maids and butlers, and making her way through the shadows to the where light spilled through polished windows onto the snow covered grounds. She could not see anything from outside, but she could faintly hear the music. It was lovely, reminding her of the music her father would listen to before he passed away.

But she knew it was not the music, nor the decorations, nor the guests that drew her to the ball. It was Peeta, knowing he was inside, acting the part of a gentleman, performing his duties as the future Duke. It was just another reminder of how different they were, why their attraction was fruitless. He, inside in the warmth, with his contemporaries. She, outside in the cold, alone with nothing but thoughts to keep her warm.

A sudden movement on the path up ahead caused her to start, and she quickly stepped to the side, out of the light of the moon. She did not need to be found outside by a lost guest, nor did she need one of the other staff discovering her out here, and questioning her actions.

She breathed a sigh of relief as the person drew near, however, his blonde waves shining in the low light, his perfectly tailored tuxedo fitting like a glove.

Stepping out of the shadows, she folded her arms across her chest. "Peeta, what are you doing out here?" Katniss demanded. He did not look startled, only slightly bemused.

"I am looking for you," he replied simply. "There are far too many people inside speaking of dreadfully boring topics, so I escaped. I saw Madge on my way out and enquired as to your whereabouts; she mentioned she had seen you move outside, around to here."

Katniss narrowed her eyes, frustrated at herself for being seen, even if it was only Madge. "She should not have told you. I do not want you to get in trouble for being out here."

"No one will miss me, Katniss," Peeta said smoothly, shooting the ends of the cuffs of his jacket. He stepped towards her, ignoring her barely supressed half step back, and curled his fingers through hers, pressing their hands palm to palm. "But you were right when we last spoke. We have been so busy this week we have hardly had time to breathe, let alone be with each other. The only person who has been missed, is _you_."

She bit her lip, hating the curl of need that swirled through her belly at his touch, at his words. It was ridiculous. He was only a _man_, for goodness sake. One she would only have for a short while.

But my, how she would appreciate that short time while she had it.

Stepping forward, she laid her head against his chest, feeling his arms draw up around her. Even in the winter chill, she felt all the warmer for being with him, although she was certain he was nowhere near dressed properly for such weather.

"You shall catch a cold if you are out here too long, Peeta," she said softly. She felt his breath blow against her hair as he rested his head against her own. His hands shifted in gentle circles against her back, and she felt the tension that had been locked up inside her for days slowly loosen and dissolve.

"It does not matter. A few moments with you would make it worth it." He pulled back slightly, reaching his hand up and resting his fingers under her chin, tipping it up so he could look at her directly. "Do you not agree?" Peeta bent his head, brushing his lips against hers gently, as soft as a feather. She nodded slightly, not willing to pull away, and she felt him smile against her lips, before he trailed his lips over her cheek, across her forehead, ending with a slight press of his mouth against the soft skin just below her ear.

"How I wish you could be in attendance at the ball with me," he said softly, his words skittering along her skin. "I would do nothing but dance with you even when no-one else was dancing. I would monopolise all of your time, not allowing anyone else to share in the glances we could exchange without fear of worry. I would steal kisses from you the moment anyone turned their back and wish we were alone so that I could kiss you the way I want to, every minute of every day." He trailed off, his arms tightening around her, fingers splaying against her back and drawing her close.

Katniss' mouth opened and closed at his words, wanting desperately to reply but unsure what to say. How could she, when words so easily rolled off his tongue like poetry? Especially when, only ten minutes before, she had been reminding herself of how different they were.

"I do not need to be anywhere but here," she finally replied, tucking her head closer to the crook of his neck. Her words may not have been as poetic, not as full of yearning as Peeta's were, but she meant them, and that was far more significant than anything she could say.

The musicians changed their tune, and she listened to the music, soft violins that echoed through the night; she allowed Peeta to pull her into a gentle sway. If she closed her eyes, she almost _could _imagine she was inside, with the glittering tree full of decorations, the plush feel of the carpet under her feet, the sliding of silk and satin against her skin, the gentle tinkling of glasses as they tapped together in celebration, her body warm from the fire, and from Peeta's against hers.

His lips pressed lightly against hers, and she sighed, her hands clenching against his shoulders. It was a soft kiss, a romantic one, one suited to a night under the stars and fields blanketed in snow that shimmered like diamonds in the moonlight. For once she did not pull away quickly, allowing the moment to linger. They had so few together, so little time to steal away and forget the obstacles in their way, that she could not help the desire to let it continue for as long it could. But it would not last; even through the silvery haze that clouded her mind whenever Peeta's lips were on hers and when his arms banded tightly around her waist, she could hear the soft crunching of heels on gravel, and she pulled away, startled, her eyes flying open.

"Someone is coming," she whispered, frantically looking from side to side in the darkened night. Peeta cocked an ear, and his eyes widened as it registered with him.

"Quickly, you must hide," he blurted, and their gazes caught. Although she knew he was right, and was aware the hurt that welled up inside of her was misplaced, she could not help but feel it. She was the one who had always insisted on ensuring their secret be kept, not Peeta. He was only abiding by her wishes.

With a small nod, she turned, but in her haste tripped over her shoes, tumbling into the bushes behind them. She cursed, her cheeks flaming in embarrassment. A twig tore at her cheek, the branches latching onto her dress as she tried to pull herself free.

"Katniss, are you – Oh! Lady Annabelle, good evening to you." Katniss heard the tone, and level of Peeta's voice change and, in terror at his announcement, pulled herself deeper into the bushes, out of sight. Chinese whispers had carried through the staff after the Viscount and Viscountesses' wedding – no doubt begun by those who had close friendships with the staff at the nearby estate - and it had not escaped Katniss' ears the situation that had occurred between Peeta and the Lady Annabelle. With the exception of the Duchess, the last person they needed to catch them was this bitter, angry young woman who had been spurned by Peeta, and in public no less. And now she could not move, and would have to wait in the freezing night air, and listen to the bile the woman was likely to aim at Peeta.

"Good evening to you." Even through the branches, and with only the low glow of the moon to light them, Katniss could see the pinched cheeks, the pursed lips of the young woman. "I am surprised to find you out here, my lord."

"Just catching a moment of fresh air, as I am fond of a dance when I can, and I do believe I have danced quite a bit this evening," Peeta replied smoothly. "But Lady Annabelle, it is far too cold for you to be out here without a coat to keep you warm. Please, allow me to escort you back into the ballroom, where we can sip on some mulled wine."

"I wanted a moment of your time," Lady Annabelle carried on, as though Peeta had made no offer to her. "I do regret my actions at the Viscount and Viscountess' wedding last weekend, and you have my sincerest apologies. I acted irrationally and without cause. And, I can only assume, you could say the same for your ill-thought words."

"My….Ill-thought words?" Peeta echoed, confusion lacing his tone. Katniss inhaled sharply, for she had known a many a woman such as Lady Annabelle, and they were like a poorly mannered dog with a bone it would not let go.

"Of course. I am well aware that you did not mean to give me the impression you wished not to engage the possibility of courtship."

"Courtship?" The words were choked, and Katniss wondered where Peeta's golden tongue – the one that seemed to open every door he wished to open – had disappeared to.

"I spoke with the Duchess but a few moments ago, and she explained how unwell you were once you returned home from the wedding celebrations, and that you must have had a fever rising to cause you to utter such absurdities." Lady Annabelle's words were light and full of understanding, but she was as aware as both Peeta and Katniss were that what words the Duchess would have uttered would be nought but a bold-faced lie. The only difference was that the Lady Annabelle was going to exploit it as much as she could.

"My mother." The words were hard as realisation set in, and Katniss peered at Peeta through the small gap between leaves. His jaw was set, his eyes glittering madly in the moonlight, his arms tense at his sides.

"Yes, the Duchess," Lady Annabelle reiterated, a small smile tugging at the corner of her lips. "I told her I would find you for a dance. She is very much looking forward to seeing that." She cocked her arm, waiting for Peeta to do as was proper, and slip his arm through hers, to guide her to the ballroom.

"I am not sure I care for another dance right now," Peeta replied.

"Oh, but Her Grace insisted. She said it would make the night simply perfect for her. And between you and I," her voice lowered comically, as though what she was saying was a surprise to anyone, "The Duchess would be the last person I wish to offend this evening. The last event she held was interrupted horribly by an inept maid, and I would hate for her ball – which is magnificent, and will be talked about for months, I assure you – to be ruined by you not wishing to dance."

Katniss knew Lady Annabelle had him there. For all of Peeta's ruminations on equality, and how unfair it was that those such as Katniss could not attend events such as these, he knew his place, he knew his responsibilities. She knew that causing another scene would be nothing but detrimental to the two of them, and right now they could not afford that. She knew he would abide by what was, in no uncertain terms, a directive from his mother.

So when she saw him sigh softly, and slip his arm through Lady Annabelle's, allowing her hand to rest gently but possessively on his forearm, she was not surprised. It did not stop the pain that lanced through her like a fire, rippling over her skin, and the soft mewl of frustration that fell from her lips.

She heard their voices begin to fade, and she crept out from the garden, impatiently yanking at the leaves that caught on her coat. She glanced after them, watched them continue down the path towards the entrance of the house, towards the ball that awaited them.

Their silhouettes were perfect in the waning light. The slight, delicate woman, her hair elegantly piled on top of her head, her skirts swishing around her ankles. She was the epitome of a lady, Katniss mused, temper notwithstanding. This was a woman whose status in society was her career, and her aim was on the man Katniss loved. Katniss hated her with a fierce and sudden fury that devoured all her hurt.

She then studied him, a handsome broad-shouldered man, with confidence in his every step, his back ramrod straight, his gaze face-forward and not faltering. As was expected, he did not look back at her.

_He did not look back at all._

* * *

She slammed open the door to her room, the sound of it banging against the wall reverberating down the hall. She did not care if she woke anyone, and as it was, most of them were still assisting with the ball. None of it mattered, not compared to the thousands of emotions that spilled through her.

"What is your _problem_?" A voice demanded from behind her, and she whirled to see Johanna standing in the open doorway, eyebrow raised, hand resting on her cocked hip. "Lovers tiff?"

"Shut up, Johanna," Katniss snarled. "Leave me be, and close the door behind you." With a firm shake of her head, Johanna stepped inside, but dutifully closed the door. She stared at Katniss, her whiskey coloured eyes boring into her. "What? What are you even doing here? Are you not serving?"

"Done for the night," Johanna replied simply. "Now what is it? It must be Peeta."

"Why does everything come back to Peeta?" Katniss sat on her bed, crossing her arms. "Maybe I am just not in a mood to speak with anyone."

"Not in the mood to speak with anyone? That ain't nothing different. You're stroppy, Katniss, but not normally this bad."

"Stroppy?" Katniss hissed. "What do you expect? I have to sit there, hiding in a bush, being torn and scraped at by sticks and thorns while I watch that snivelling woman flirt and speak of courtship with Peeta."

Johanna snorted. "I suppose you mean Lady Whatsherface, the one with the temper." Katniss rolled her eyes, frustrated at herself for venting her petty thoughts to her friend. "What were you doing?"

"It does not matter what I was doing," she retorted. The she caught Johanna's unamused glare, and sighed. "Fine. I had gone outside, and Peeta found me-"

"Of course he did."

"And we were talking," Katniss continued, as though uninterrupted. "I heard someone coming and in my haste to hide, fell into the bushes. It became evident it was Lady Annabelle, so I stayed in the bushes, and had to listen as she informed Peeta that the Duchess was demanding a dance from the two of them."

Johanna snorted, resting her back lightly against the soft-grained wood of the door. "When Madge was serving earlier, all she heard was that woman tittering about how well she and the Duchess get along, and how "Surely we will be spending so much more time together in the future!"". Johanna's voice rose two octaves, and took on an affected tone that should have sounded posh, but with her rounded accent, just sounded ridiculous. Katniss could not help the smile that tugged on the corner of her mouth, and Johanna smiled in return. "Do not worry. She is as silly as she is overbearing and would not know the difference between courtship and friendship if it hit her over the head. That woman is playing right into the Duchess' hands, but we both know Peeta don't care."

"But he should." Katniss spread her hands out in front of her as Johanna sat beside her on the small twin bed. "It is obvious that the Duchess is now putting all of her time and effort into a match with Lady Annabelle now that Delly is married."

"Delly?" Johanna queried, and Katniss felt a blush creep across her cheeks.

"It is Peeta's name for the Viscountess Delilah, and I am afraid it stuck with me. I should be more careful."

Johanna shrugged. "I like it. Sounds more like her. She is one of the few who don't have a pole stuck up their-"

"Johanna!"

"What? No one is here."

Katniss sighed. "Regardless, I should be careful. If people were to hear me refer to her as that, they would know that Peeta has spoken of her informally to me." She lay back on the bed, still bundled in her coat, and stared at the ceiling, Jo leaning back beside her. They were quiet for a long while, both lost in their own thoughts.

"How long do you think you can maintain this?" Jo finally asked. Katniss felt her heart drop. It was something she did not like to think about, something she did not like to consider. She knew it was an eventuality, but for once in her life she was affording herself to think selfishly. So while she was being cautious about being caught, she stubbornly refused to think about what would happen when it _did_ eventually run the course she expected it to run. Because when she did, the tightness in her chest refused to abate, and the overwhelming sense of loss was hard to bear.

"I do not know," she finally replied simply.

If Johanna had anything more to say on the topic, she did not pursue it. Instead, the silence dragged on, two women more comfortable with not saying anything to each other than saying anything at all.

* * *

Her fingers dug into his arm like a vice, and he knew it was fruitless to try and remove it, or lessen her grip. Lady Annabelle was holding fast.

Peeta escorted her back inside, down the hallways and corridors back to the ballroom. Garlands lined their path, holly and ivy intertwined along balustrades, the scent of pine from the trees Thresh had removed from their own woods and set up throughout the house, bedecked in decorations, drifting through the rooms. Lady Annabelle spoke incessantly, about everything and anything, though nought of any importance, and he yearned for the quiet simplicity of Katniss. He already missed the feel of her, the soft scent of her hair, the soft hum that he was certain she had not been aware she had been murmuring as they danced out in snow.

"Oh there is the Duchess, Peeta, let us go and speak with her briefly before we dance," Lady Annabelle announced, practically dragging him across the floor to the wide windows at the edge of the room that the Duchess was standing in front of. The older woman was bedecked in a gown of deep burgundy, the skirt bustled, the neckline demure but flattering to display the diamond and ruby choker that collared her thin neck. The warmth of the gown and the glitter of jewels did nothing to make her look any less homely than she was.

"Your Grace," Lady Annabelle greeted, dipping into a slight curtsey.

"Lady Annabelle," The Duchess replied, with a glint in her eye. "I see you have found my son for that dance I am so looking forward to seeing. Peeta," she turned to him, and the glint turned cold. "We had no idea as to your whereabouts. It was quite disconcerting to myself and the Lady Annabelle."

"My apologies. I had stepped out for some fresh air. I am afraid I danced and drank myself to a slight headache." Peeta matched her glare, and if those around them noticed the frostiness in the air, they elected to ignore it dutifully.

"Well I assume the frigid air has done you some good, and that you are ready for a turn about the floor with Lady Annabelle."

"But of course," Peeta replied smoothly, and took pleasure in the surprise his easy agreeance caused in the Duchess. "Lady Annabelle, if you would do me the honour?" He cocked his elbow, and she took it, tossing a smirk towards a gathering of young women to their left. He led her into the rows of other dancers, and counted the beats until they joined in the dancing. It was all pomp and circumstance, no romance.

Peeta allowed his mind to roam, even while his body went through the motions, while he smiled with no warmth to his dancing partner. He somehow knew that his mother would begin forcing this potential courtship the moment Delly and the Viscount were married. He had been surprised that she had not cornered him earlier, had not lost her temper at him about his conversation with Lady Annabelle at the reception, for surely she would have heard. He had been prepared for it all week, had thought carefully about what he could say to lessen the ire he knew she would have, especially compared to the silent disappointment he had experienced from the Duke on the carriage ride home from the wedding. But perhaps she had simply been waiting for this night, where she could force him into following her wishes, and in public no less. Peeta knew that Lady Annabelle was right about one thing. Tonight was not the night to arrive on the bad side of the Duchess, and so he had elected to abide by her wishes.

He did not have to like them.

He was relieved when the dance was over, and they curtseyed politely to each other before they moved away from the floor.

"You dance very well together," The Duchess greeted as they made their way back to her side. Lady Annabelle flushed, while Peeta fought to keep the distaste from his face. "You made quite the impression on the others whom were dancing."

"I am only as good a dancer as my partner is," Lady Annabelle replied, and Peeta was not sure he had ever heard a voice so laced in saccharine.

"Hush, my dear. You are perfectly fine." She glanced at Peeta, then at the young woman in front of her. "Would you be a dear and collect for me a glass of wine, I wish to have a moment with my son," The Duchess requested. Lady Annabelle nodded eagerly, turning immediately to complete the woman' request. The moment her back was turned, the Duchess whirled on Peeta, her eyes ablaze.

"I have held my tongue this week, Peeta, after I heard of your actions at that horrid wedding. I most certainly do not know what game you are playing at, but you will put a stop to this tomfoolery sooner rather than later. I have made my position on this matter perfectly clear, and thankfully was able to abate Lady Annabelle's anger and frustration towards you."

"Nothing will abate Lady Annabelle's anger and frustration, mother, it is ingrained in her as deep as can be."

The older woman's eyes flashed, and she lowered her voice. "You will not disregard me, nor my requests. Your father may be of a softer heart than I, but I will not let you risk our line by not settling down. We do not need another Bachelor Duke, not after your great-great Uncle. You will wed Lady Annabelle, Peeta, whether you like it or not." Her voice had risen an octave or two, though she was oblivious to the glances that had begun to be sent her way by guests around them.

"Now is not the time to discuss this, mother," Peeta replied smoothly. "You do not wish to make a scene, do you?"

The Duchess blinked, her lips firming into a straight line. "Do not mock me, Peeta," she said, lowering her voice. "This discussion is not over."

He dipped his head, seeing Lady Annabelle making her way back to them. "For now, mother, it is." A flashed a charming smile at her and turned on his heel, looking for Finnick. It was high time he enjoyed the evening with his friend.

* * *

**A/N**

**Thanks to salanderjade for holding my hand through this chapter.**

**I will be posting some photos on tumblr of Chatsworth at Christmas, so you can see what I have in my head when writing. I'm on there at sponsormusings :)**

**Thanks for reading!**


	12. Chapter 12

The morning dawned crisp and cool, the sunlight lazy across the fields in front of them. They stood, four men of varying degrees of wealth and stature, bound by something as simple as friendship.

"Well, Finn, I must say that I am sad to see you go," Peeta announced, shaking his hair back from his forehead. "We shall have to resort to inviting Cato, or God forbid, Marvel, to join us if we wish a fourth for cards."

Finnick rolled his eyes. "Do not be so dramatic, Peeta. You know you have only but to ask Lady Four Leaf Clover to join you, and she would be here within an instant so she could stare at you."

Haymitch snorted, while Gale at least smothered his grin with a polite hand. Since the ball three days before, when Finnick had had the misfortune of being introduced to Lady Annabelle, he had taken every opportunity to mock her name. Peeta had the horrible feeling it would stick, and he would accidentally utter it in front of the Duchess. He hoped he would be able to bite his tongue.

"She would not lower herself to such a frivolous pastime, I assure you," Peeta replied blithely. "You should be thankful your Annie is nought like her."

"Indeed. I rather think if she were asked, Annie would not even consider saying no and then defeat us all magnificently at cards." Finnick's grin was contagious, bright and full of happiness, and Peeta could not help but wonder if he looked the same when he thought or spoke of Katniss.

He would like to think so.

"Well I suppose I should say thank you for waking so early to see me off," Finnick sighed with slight resignation as silence fell, waving Gale's hand aside to bend to pick up his final case himself. It was another thing the two men had in common - a complete disregard of societal rules. He stuck out a hand to Haymitch, shaking it forcefully, before throwing an arm around Peeta's shoulders. "Do not be glum, old chap. While I have been here, I have seen your loves eyes follow you around as much as yours followed her. Enjoy your time together while it lasts. I shall see you back at Cambridge in the new year. And do not gorge on Christmas pudding, for I will not forgive you if you are as round as a house for our race." He playfully ruffled Peeta's hair, then pulled away, clapping his hand on Gale's back. "Let us go, Sir Gale, so I can return to my maiden fair." Finnick threw one final grin over his shoulder before climbing aboard the carriage, Gale following suit into the drivers' seat. Peeta and Haymitch watched as it made its way down the gravel drive, small mites of snow laced dust kicking up from the horse's hooves and the turning of wheels.

"That man has more energy and whimsy than everyone else I have met in my entire life combined," Haymitch muttered. Peeta smiled, rocking back on his heels, his hands firmly in his pockets to ward off the chill.

"Imagine living with him during the university term," Peeta replied with a chuckle. But his next words were serious, heartfelt. "He is cocky and self-assured and suave and smart; but I really could not survive those times without him. He is like a rope that tethers me to shore when things are bad."

Haymitch rolled his eyes, and moved towards the entrance. "How hard could things be for you? You and those damned poetry courses, boy." They stepped inside, their shoes soft and quiet against the smooth, polished floor and Peeta raised an eyebrow, his blue eyes shining with mischief.

"Now, now, Abernathy, is that any way to speak to me?" Haymitch grunted, but his posture straightened, and Peeta almost smiled to himself as he watched the seasoned butler wipe the scowl off his face, to be replaced by resigned impassiveness. Outside, and in the staff quarters were one thing. In the main halls and in the possible presence of the Duke or Duchess, was another.

Peeta was amazed at times how the older man could be so stubborn and grumpy and blunt with himself and the other staff, but overly professional when called for. He supposed the old man was adept at games, and thus had the best poker face he had ever encountered.

"You know I jest," Peeta said with a grin. "But I must ask of you a favour." Haymitch said nothing, just waited, hand fiddling with his pocket watch his only tell. "It would be wonderful if you could ensure Katniss is relieved from duties early this evening. We have spent so little time together, and it will only get worse with Christmas responsibilities and more events at other estates."

Haymitch sighed, his rheumy eyes tired in the dim early morning light of the entrance hall. "I shall see. Not making any promises." He turned on his heel, shaking his head and muttering under his breath as he moved back toward the servant quarters. Peeta grinned, and whistled to himself under his breath.

Katniss would be finishing early this evening, he knew it.

* * *

"I am aware that due to the weekend event, and with Christmas falling on a Sunday this year, that many of you will not have been able to have your weekend leave as you normally would," Ms Trinket started, addressing the staff that had gathered in the kitchen. Her hands were folded calmly at her waist, her posture straight. But her eyes were worn, and Katniss could tell that the busy weeks were starting to take their toll on the woman. She wondered if this season had been busier than normal, with the Duchess seemingly intent on matching Peeta up with a wife more than ever.

Her mind drifted as Ms Trinket continued on, thinking over the previous week. Johanna had slowly but surely removed her from her bad mood the night of the ball. Almost an hour straight of bawdy jokes she had been told from Gale and Thresh - most of which left Katniss alternately blushing and giggling awkwardly - had cheered her as best as she could, and by Sunday morn, Katniss had resigned herself to Peeta being paraded in front of her with potential wives being an ongoing occurrence. She already knew he would not be hers for any longer than their short liaison would take them, and she really had no right to begrudge him a proper wife.

But heavens, she hoped it was anyone but Lady Annabelle.

Tuesday evening she and Peeta had stolen precious moments together in the forgotten study, but a bout of lurgy that travelled through the staff had had Katniss worked ragged since then. She had told Peeta in no uncertain terms that he should remain as far away from the staff as possible - herself included - while illness was rampant. As a result, their times together had been few and far between.

She shook her head, forcing herself to listen to Ms Trinket's words. "But despite this busy period," the woman was saying, "Please remember that you will all have Monday away from your duties, and the opportunity to go home if you wish. The day after Christmas is the one day of the year that we are all excepted from our duties, and I hope you all make the most of that time. However, we still have 2 days until then. Please be diligent in your work. Dismissed." She turned on her heel, making her way over to Sae at the back of the room, their heads bending together quickly to go over the days menu.

Katniss sighed. One day was not really enough time to leave Chatsworth to visit with mother and Prim, and she loathed the fact that it would be the first Christmas she would not spend with them. Instead, she had agreed to stay behind at Chatsworth with Johanna and Gale, both of whose families lived further away than Katniss'. They would have their own Christmas event, they had determined, but while Katniss appreciated it, it would not be the same. A handful of roasted chestnuts, Prim's head upon her shoulder as they read by firelight, their soft voices as they sang Christmas carols to each other. They may have never had a big to-do, but it was still her family.

Rising from her chair, she followed Madge and Johanna - bickering as usual - down the hallway, off to their morning duties. She was responsible for the Duchess' rooms this morning, and her heart pounded loudly in her ears at the thought. She had not encountered the Duchess personally since the incident at the afternoon tea, and Ms Trinket had endeavoured not to have her wait on her in all this time. But she had been firmly advised by the housekeeper that morning that she could not avoid her forever, and promptly assigned her to the duty.

Katniss only hoped the Duchess was already awake and away from her quarters.

Making her way down the heavily carpeted hall, she arrived at the heavy wooden door, her hand resting hesitantly on the knob. With a deep breath, she eased it open, her head peering in quickly. She scanned across the room, and her shoulders dropped in relief as she saw it unoccupied.

Slipping inside, she moved quickly to the windows, pulling open the thick drapes that obscured the early morning light. The room was already immaculate – the Duchess did not believe in a single item being out of place – so Katniss was pleased that there would not be much work to complete. She went through the motions, ensuring the drapes were aligned correctly, making and smoothing out the creases in the bed, plumping the pillows, setting in the padded chair that rested in front of the dressing mirror. The Duchess' personal maid would have put away her bedclothes, would have returned any unused jewellery to the case, for which Katniss was thankful. The last thing she wanted to do was to worry about handling the Duchess' personal items.

She hummed lightly to herself as she worked through her routine, an old song father used to sing to her and Prim as children. It reminded her of when days were good, when her only worry was falling in the river when she went to fish. None of this-

"I did not realise we paid you to sing." The voice was firm, haughty and bordering on prim. Katniss winced, and was thankful she was facing the windows, and not the doorway, so she could compose herself. Of all days for her to return, she mused bitterly, it had to be the one where I am here. She slowly turned, to see the Duchess, chin high, arms folded tightly across her chest. If it was on any other woman, Katniss would think the pale blue gown with a simple golden brooch above the breast beautiful. But its loveliness did not save the Duchess from the severity of the drawn lines of her face, the puckered mouth, the air of disdain that seemed to surround her whenever she was in the vicinity of an employee. Katniss supposed that one day, many years ago, the Duchess had been beautiful. It was just certainly very hard to see.

"I am speaking to you; it is only courteous for you to respond." The Duchess' cold tone broke through her thoughts, and Katniss watched as she moved towards the vanity, tugging the small pearls from her ears and dropping them onto the polished wood. "But for you, it does not surprise me. Trinket is adamant you are suitable for your position, although from what I have seen, I find it hard to believe. You look a surly, unapproachable girl, and are small; not particularly pretty. Though I suppose that does not matter for you, for pretty can get no-one of your stature anywhere but trouble." Katniss' lips firmed, and she folded her arms behind her back, lest the Duchess see them shaking. It did not matter than she insulted her looks, her stature, her place. It was the sheer and utter hatred that laced the woman's voice that angered her. But she kept her gaze straight, waiting for further instruction.

The Duchess moved back towards her, chin jutted arrogantly. "You embarrassed me in front of my friends with your trembling hands. Women tittered behind their hands, not just at you, but at myself as well. I do not like to be ridiculed." She took a step forward, until she was all that Katniss could see.

There was nothing of Peeta in this woman.

"Do you have anything to say for yourself?"

"No, Your Grace," Katniss replied formally, trying to contain the bitterness that wanted to spill from her. She knew she could not properly express what she wanted to say – her retort was a jumble of words on the tip of her tongue, and it was best regardless that she refrain from replying in anger – but what she could not contain was the spark in her eyes, the fire that lit them from within. And it was that which burned the Duchess the most, the knowledge that this little twig of a thing was not intimidated by her.

"You will not return to my rooms," she snapped. "I will not have your incompetence anywhere near my quarters. Now go. I do not want to see you in here a minute longer."

With a firm nod of her head that held very little subservience, Katniss turned on her heel, making her way to the door.

"Oh, and I must remind you," The Duchess called behind her. Katniss turned slightly on her heel, studying the woman framed in the glass window that shone behind her. "Your employment here is very much still determined by me. One step out of line, and you are gone."

Katniss nodded, much less confident than a few moments before, and walked from the room. Her interaction with the Duchess was yet another reminder of why it was so important she was careful.

* * *

Peeta breathed in deeply, the late afternoon air sharp and bitter along his throat. To say he was relieved was an understatement.

Christmas had finally come and gone, and without engagement news he had been convinced the Duchess would announce, regardless of his intentions - again. But they had not occurred, though by the frosty exchanges between his parents, he could only assume it was because of the Duke's interference had the matter not been raised.

He could not be more thankful to his father right now.

Peeta and the Duke had spent the early part of the morning providing the staff with their gift boxes, before sending them on their way to spend the holiday with their own family. It was the one day of the year they had no staff to wait on them and, as usual, the Duchess had not deigned to rise from her bed. "Why rise when I must do everything myself?" She had crowed last year. He had simply ignored her, and was choosing to do so again this year. He himself did not mind the estate feeling so empty. He could almost imagine he was normal, a regular man with no stature.

He scoffed to himself as he wound his way through gardens towards the carriage house, and Gale. If he was a regular man, he thought, he would not be in the conundrum he was in.

Kicking his foot against a small rock, he cursed, his jaw set in frustration. He had not been able to see Katniss before she left, and he was bitterly disappointed. He had wanted just 5 minutes alone with her, to speak with her before she left, but alas it was not meant to be. He looked up at the sound of boots on gravel, and saw Gale making his way towards him, whistling happily. "Unlike me, Peeta, you look as surly as Haymitch," he greeted.

Peeta scoffed. "Hardly. I have not had a drink yet."

Gale laughed, crossing his arms across his chest. "What are you doing out here? It is freezing."

"I wanted some fresh air," Peeta shrugged. "Why are you?"

Gale grinned. "I needed fresh air too, though probably for a very different reason." He glanced over his shoulder back in the direction of the carriage house.

Peeta rolled his eyes. "The last thing I need to hear about right now is _that_, Gale Hawthorne," he said sternly, reaching up and rubbing his hand across his heart.

"This is true. But I still do not understand why you are out here. You should go find Katniss, spend some time with her while you can."

"And how do you propose I do that? She is miles away."

Gale's brow furrowed. "She is probably meters away, Peeta. She did not return home today."

Peeta's mouth dropped open as he thought back over the last week, trying to remember if she had told him. He could not recall, but in all honesty, the week had been a whirlwind, and when they were together - well, he was not exactly focusing on conversation.

"She is here," he exclaimed, and Gale laughed.

"She is. Likely in the servants quarters inside the house."

Peeta grinned, clapped a hand on Gale's shoulder. "Thank you. I must go find her." He turned on his heel, before throwing one last glance back at his friend. "Now go back to the lady in your bed. It's too cold for her to be alone." With one last smile and a spring in his step, he returned to the house.

* * *

She could not believe that, even on her day off, she was wearing an apron.

Katniss had spent the better part of the afternoon with Gale and Johanna, until it had become blindingly obvious that they wanted to be alone. She had excused herself, returning to her rooms and changing back into her uniform. Even though she was not required to work, the Duchess had demanded that anyone staying behind be properly attired. And even though Katniss could care less about clothes, it burned that even in her own time; she was being told what to wear. Just another in a line of reasons that she hated the Duchess.

"Good evening, Katniss." The voice broke her out of her reverie, and she looked up in surprise to see Peeta leaning lazily against the doorway to the kitchen. He must have come from the stables, she mused, although the weather was not ideal for riding. He wore the breeches that she secretly thought looked better on him than anything else, his hair tousled from the wind, his arms folded across his broad chest. He smelt like hay, and frost, and the subtle, underlying scent that was just him.

"Peeta, what are you doing in here?" She demanded, and she glanced down guiltily at the small meal of bread and jam she had put together for her supper. She probably should have eaten in her room, kept out of the way of the few people who remained behind.

"I was terribly lonely," he began, his eyes twinkling. "There is hardly anyone here, although I cannot begrudge time spent with their families. I was wandering aimlessly, whiling away my time brushing down Mockingjay's coat. And then I found Gale, who told me you had remained behind, and I was more than taken aback that you were here, and yet did not tell me."

Her face burned, and she bit her lip. She had meant to, many a time, but..."You have been busy-" Katniss started, and he waved her off, a sense of impatience surrounding him.

"It does not matter. What does matter is that you are here. And there are plenty who are not." He took a step forward, one foot in front of the other until he was directly on the other side of the table, hands curving over the back of the chair in front of him. "What does matter is that I am here, you are here and no-one can stop us."

"Stop us from what?" Her voice shook, her heart thudding painfully against her chest. She was both thrilled and afraid at what he meant. Had she not thought of him this way after their last meeting? After _every_ meeting? Wanted to feel his hands in hers, his breath on her skin, his lips pressed to her own? She knew every time they met it became riskier and riskier, and even if there were so few staff at the Estate, and the Duke and Duchess would not even consider making their way to these quarters...Even though she wanted to be near him, with him, was it worth the risk?

She yelped in surprise as he rounded the table quickly, one hand clutching at hers to pull her to her feet, the other wrapping around her waist. He walked backwards, pulling her towards the open pantry, fingers twisting around the long length of her apron ties, tugging her closer so that she was flush against him. Her face coloured as the door swung shut behind them, her eyes wide.

"Peeta, what are you doing?" she hissed, reaching up and yanking on the cord that dangled from the ceiling, bathing the small room in a low, murky light. His arm around her waist was like a vice, holding steadfast.

"I simply want five minutes alone with you. And no-one is near here, other than Jo and Gale, and we both know where they are right now." He leant forward, his breath warm and soft against her ear. "I want to kiss you."

"But the pantry, Peeta?" she mumbled softly, feeling her resolve waiver the more she felt his hand brush against the small of her back, the more she felt the rise and fall of his chest against hers.

"I could not wait," he whispered, finally releasing the cords of her apron to cup her cheeks in his hands. He laid his lips against hers, his fingers tightening along the edge of her jaw. Her hands flailed at her sides, unsure of what to do, where to rest. In all honesty, she could not think when he was like this. They rarely had such an opportunity to hold one another, let alone be so spontaneous. Every time he showed these bursts of impatience, his eyes burning into hers with what she could only gather was want, she forgot anything and everything.

Except him.

She reached her arms up, clutching tightly to his shoulders. Those shoulders were one of her favourite things of him, the way they were firm and broad without being overbearing. She vaguely thought of what they looked like in the picture he had sent her, and she shivered. She needed to make the most of those shoulders while she still could.

His lips tangled with hers hungrily, his body pressing hers against the shelves, one of the sharp corners pressing into the small of her back. She did not care. Peeta felt too good for her to think about anything else any more.

Impatient mewls fell from her lips as Peeta ended their kiss. But instead his lips trailed across her cheek, to her ear, traversed a long, slow journey to the juncture of her neck. He suckled at the skin there, and she started, her entire body jerking in his arms. _Why did he have to make her feel so impossibly good?_

His hand grazed up her side, dancing across her ribs, fingers splayed across the expanse of her waist. She wondered what it said of her that she wished he would move his hand, just slightly, to graze the underside of her breast through the fabric.

_Stop_.

She pulled away, resting a hand on the shelf beside her, full to the brim of preserves and marmalades and jams.

"Is everything alright?" Peeta asked, his brow furrowing in concern. He reached for her again, but she stepped back lightly, just out of his grasp.

"I….I do not think my thoughts in here are appropriate," she said softly, chewing on her lip. Peeta raised an eyebrow and straightened his jacket.

"I do not think my thoughts of you are appropriate anywhere," he replied honestly, and spread his hands out wide. "But I do not care. I want to be with you, Katniss. In every way imaginable."

Katniss blinked, her mouth slightly agape. She had been made aware of his interest in her in his letters, and his kisses had by no means led her astray in how much he felt for her. But for him to be that blunt…

"This is not the type of place for that type of conversation," she replied hesitantly, although she knew there _was_ no type of place suitable. Peeta nodded, his lips slightly pursed in thought.

"You are right. I have a gift for you as well, which all things considered, deserves a better place to be given than a pantry." He reached up for the cord, clicking it off before Katniss slowly pushed the door open. Breathing a sigh of relief at the sight of the kitchen remaining empty and untouched, she slid out, Peeta close behind. He squeezed her hand, his smile quick, charming and bright. "I have to return to my room for your gift. Meet me in the stables, by Mockingjay's stall, where we first met. I shall not be any longer than 15 minutes." He bent down, his lips resting lightly against her hand before he turned, and dashed down the hallway. She stared after him, and sighed. Something told her this was not a good idea.

But it did not stop her, and 15 minutes later she waited, her hand trailing softly down Mockingjay's coat. She sang softly to the horse, very much like she had that first day.

"_Are you, Are you  
Coming to the tree  
Wear a necklace of rope, side by side with me.  
Strange things did happen here,  
No stranger would it be,  
If we met up at midnight in the hanging tree."_

"That is one sad song, my love," Peeta spoke up from behind her. She had heard him coming, his footsteps heavy on the ground and over the crunching of snow. So she did not startle as he spoke, continued to run a hand along the horses' mane. She watched as his hand reached out and covered hers, their fingers twining as they ran them through the long hair that was both silky and oddly coarse at the same time.

"It is one my father taught me, many years ago," Katniss replied softly.

"Oh? You do not speak very often of your father."

"That is because he is dead, Peeta, and I can ill afford to dwell on the past." His fingers tightened on hers, and he tugged on them until she turned to face him. His blue eyes were sad, apologetic, and framed by lashes dusted with snow.

"I am sorry, Katniss," he said with reverence. "I did not mean to upset you."

Katniss smiled sadly. "You did not upset me, Peeta, it is fine," she assured him. She allowed him to pull her into his embrace, soft and gentle and with none of the demand of their kiss in the pantry. He tucked her head into the crook of his shoulder, resting his head on yours.

"I would always try _never_ to upset you or make you angry," Peeta whispered. Katniss closed her eyes, already knowing what he said would be broken. How can you love someone so separate to you and not be hurt?

"Peeta, what did you bring me out here for?" she asked softly. She preferred being outdoors more than anything, but the cool, biting weather made her want to curl up in bed and remember the warmer weather.

"Ah, yes." Peeta stepped back, reaching into his pocket. "Close your eyes, Katniss."

"Why?" She asked cautiously.

"Please?"

Katniss shrugged, then closed her eyes. She felt his fingers graze over her palm, lifting her hand so that it rested at waist height. Her fingers curled into his before he smoothed them out, placing a small object in her hand.

Her heart galloped and her mind raced as she opened her eyes to the velvet box that sat in her palm.

* * *

**A/N** **- This chapter really only happened because of the amazing support I received from readers and writers alike in the last week. Tumblr peeps, you are wonderful. Thank you.**

**Also, I rarely plug my own fics, but I finished my first modern day AU last week, and it was an immense relief! If you feel so inclined, check out A Hard Answer to Question :)**


	13. Chapter 13

_4 years earlier..._

The wind shifted through trees, a faint rustling of leaves the colour of butter pumpkins, honeyed pastry and the dying embers of a fire. Katniss sighed quietly, her arm aching from holding the bowstring so steadfastly, waiting for the wind to gentle and for the small deer to still on its meandering journey through the woods.

It was days like these, when mother was wrapped up in her quilt and her own mind in the chair by the fire, thoughts of the evening meal non-existent, that Katniss was thankful for the time father had taken to show her how to hunt before he died.

He had first agreed to it on a whim, more for sport and pleasure than livelihood, a way of spending time with the daughter who cared more for the forest than for dolls. While yes, the added meat supplemented their meagre table, they did not live or die by their hunt alone.

That had changed more so in the years since his passing.

Many in the village near their small cottage had looked at her indulgently over the years, the young Everdeen girl who traipsed around the forest on occasion in her fathers old trousers and worn jacket, dismissing her as a girl so caught up in her grief that she no longer cared that she often looked undesirable towards the young men in the county. It was obvious that she did not, they gossiped, by the way she gave such utter disregard to the way a young woman her age should dress, regardless of her status.

At 15, Katniss could not have cared less.

She did not wear the clothes out of grief, as the faint woodsmoke smell she associated with her father had long since disappeared from the threads. Nor did she wear them as a way of discouraging men like Jeffrey Wakefield or bloody Edward Adams, as busybody Victoria Finlay was prone to chatter about.

She wore them for they were practical, suitable for hunting, and because they reminded her of what she needed to do.

She needed to be a provider, a guide for Primrose, and the glue that kept this family together. And, she would admit begrudgingly to herself, avoiding the young men in her village was a pleasant added bonus.

Marriage was something she did not believe she cared about.

Love was all well and good, she supposed. But it was not practical if you lost your love and spiralled into the depths of depression and loneliness as her mother had. While at first any chance of her returning to her old self seemed futile, but time passed, and Mrs Everdeen recovered over the years to function well enough and to resume teaching her daughters to speak and write and act proper, as she had begun when they were young. Katniss often assumed it was because she wished for them to make appropriate matches, or to earn suitable positions of employment, such as a maid for a well to do family. But there were still days the loss would overwhelm her again and Mrs Everdeen would rock herself to sleep until in her dreams she could be with her husband again. Katniss was sure her mother would never be entirely the same again.

So while Prim - even at such a young age, bless her - dreamed of a prince on a white horse to carry her away, Katniss thought of employment, of a way to support her family through thick and thin. Of a roof over her head, food in her belly and a warm bed.

If, on occasion, she considered a bed kept warm by another by her side, she disregarded it quickly. She did not need to be distracted by love. Love did not put food on the table. Love was something she had decided she would never bother with.

The wind stilled, and she took a deep breath. She needed to be silent here - something she was generally quite adept at, for who needed to speak incessantly? - or she would not be taking that deer home.

She watched, and waited, biding her time until the right moment. The string on her old makeshift bow grew taut as she pulled it back a little more, resting it against her lips, blowing out gently as she narrowed her eyes at her target. The deer turned slightly, and she could see the glint in its eye. This was the hardest part, taking the life of an animal.

_For mother, for Primrose, for life_, she chanted to herself in her head. And loosed the string with a faint thwack, the arrow neatly finding its mark. She moved from behind her hiding place, slinging the bow across her back and studied the deer. Right through the eye, she thought with a satisfied nod.

She carried the deer back to the cottage, thankful that it was no bigger or heavier than it was. The autumn leaves crunched under her feet, and she carefully navigated around tree roots that had snuck through the dark soil, over the occasional tree limb that had fallen from above. The wind had picked up again, sending a chill through her every time she stepped into the shadows, beyond where the sun could filter through the branches.

By the time she arrived home, Primrose was in the garden, twisting her fingers through the weeds that dotted their small, but lovingly kept, square of wildflowers. The younger girls' eyes widened as she saw the mass Katniss carried.

"Katniss, my goodness!" Primrose exclaimed, jumping to her feet and running to her sister, though she was careful not to get too close to the deer. "What a feast we shall have tonight!"

"For the next few nights, I should suppose," Katniss replied. "There is plenty of meat here, and with the sack of potatoes, onions and carrots mother purchased last week, we should be able to eat well with no worry."

She moved inside to the kitchen, Primrose trailing behind her, her voice a hurried whisper. "Mother fell asleep not an hour ago. She should wake soon, and be more herself again."

"Let us hope so, for mother will need to be the one to cut those onions," Katniss replied with a small smile, with the hope of dashing away the hint of worry in Primrose's voice. As the more sensitive of the two, Primrose always took these episodes of their mother's a lot harder than Katniss did.

Primrose giggled - both knew Katniss did not handle the onions very well at all - and pulled the cloth Katniss used to cover the table when she needed to carve the meat from the small pantry, laying it out so that Katniss could relieve herself of the weight of the small deer.

"Are you going to remove the meat now?" Primrose asked. Katniss grinned.

"It is fine, little duck. I will not do that while you are here. Come, this will not spoil in 5 minutes. I will walk with you back out to your garden and rest in the sunshine for a little while."

Primrose smiled happily, tucking her hand in Katniss' and pulling her back outside. She immediately dropped to her knees, continuing to weed the garden. Katniss enjoyed the warmth of the sun on her face as she watched Primrose work - she was not the most skilled of gardners, though she was trying to learn, for her sisters sake - but shot a hand out as Primrose reached toward a small flower to pull from the earth.

"Stop!" Katniss said quickly. "Do not pull that flower out."

Primrose looked up at her, squinting her eyes in the sun. "But Katniss, it is a dandelion. It is a weed."

"Leave it, please," Katniss begged. Primrose glanced back down at the weed, her fingers slowly loosening from the root of the plant.

"I shall leave it then," she said softly.

"Thank you," Katniss replied, her face blooming bright red in embarassment. She did not fully comprehend why she insisted Primrose keep it. She simply could not bear to see it removed.

Flustered, she returned to the kitchen. If she finished with the deer quickly enough, she could be done in time to perhaps give some to the baker in return for a fresh loaf.

It was past time to worry about weeds, and time to focus on her task.

* * *

The world had not stopped. She could still hear Mockingjay snorting softly in her stall, could hear the faint whirl of the wind and the snow outside. She could still feel her heart thudding in her chest, could still feel the nervousness mixed with excitement that was radiating from Peeta.

The world had not stopped just because Peeta had given her a gift.

Katniss' palm suddenly felt clammy, the box becoming slick in her hand. She had never been given something like this before, regardless of what she would find inside. It did not matter what it was. It was something he should never have considered giving to her.

"Open it," Peeta encouraged, his eyes bright and excited, like she assumed he looked when he was a young boy on Christmas morn.

"Are...are you sure?" Katniss asked tentatively. Her finger rubbed against the fabric of the box, slightly fuzzy against her skin. He nodded, his left hand resting on hers reassuringly, while she noted his right shook slightly by his side. With a deep breath, she slowly flipped open the lid of the box.

Even in the soft early evening light, she could see its luminescence. The small, perfectly formed pearl rested against the box's interior, shades of pastel purple and yellow and green shifting across its surface. She could see the small silver loop at the top, and the thin chain attached to it.

It was the most beautiful thing she had ever been given, and Peeta was the one giving it to her. As a gift.

He could not have been more stupid.

Her lips firmed before he could see them quiver. Did he not realise what he had done? What if, because of this, someone found out? It was almost as bad as if he had announced their relationship to all the gentry via telegram.

Peeta cleared his throat, and she glanced up to see him studying her intently, eyes fixated on her. And she knew what she had to say.

"I cannot accept this, Peeta," she said softly. His brow furrowed, his eyes confused. He covered her hands with his, placing them over the open box.

"Why not? Do you not like it?"

"It...it is beautiful. I love it, but..."

"But what? It was my grandmother's, the Dowager Duchess. It was given to her by her mother, whose mother gave it to her. Alas, my father was an only child as am I, and as such it came to me. The Duchess did not want anything to do with it; she considered it too plain and simple and boring. But I always found it beautiful - quiet and strong. Simple, yes, but stunning in its simplicity. And the moment I met you, I knew it was perfect for you."

Katniss shook her head emphatically. "Peeta, this should go to your children; your daughter, or even your wife. Not me. And how would I wear this? If it belonged to me, it would ever be able to see the light of day. Something as lovely as this deserves to be seen."

Peeta's fingers tightened around hers. "But it is a gift for you; I wish for you to have it more than anything else. I cannot give you anything more than this at this time-"

"What?" Katniss interjected. "At this time? What more could you desire to give me?"

With a frown, Peeta dropped her hand, turning and stalking partway down the stable walkway. He ran his hands through his hair, mussing the waves until they no longer sat in any sense of order. "What more could I desire to give you?" he retorted angrily. "Katniss, I love you. I did not think I could make it any clearer. I would wish for you to be my wife."  
The box fell from her hand, hitting the ground with a thud. It tumbled, end over end, until it hit the edge of the door to the horses' stall.

"What?" she gasped again, feeling as though she was doing nought but repeating herself. "How can you say such a thing? How can you say something that you know would make my heart leap with joy, but also break it at the same time, knowing it can never be?"

"I do not say things lightly, Katniss. Everything I say is for a purpose."

"And what purpose is this? To make me ache? To question everything I believe in? Peeta, what do you not understand about the implications of what could happen if someone was to discover this gift? What do you think people would say if they heard the words you just uttered?"

"I do not care," he declared. "And I believed, from your contempt of how society conducts itself, that neither would you."

"You need to begin caring," Katniss demanded. "And no matter my thoughts on social injustice, I am not oblivious. People do not take lightly marriages between those of two different social classes, and this is not something that will change overnight, on our whim. Not to mention the Duchess would skin me alive. It is..." she trailed off, biting her lip.

"It is what?" Peetas asked, though his voice was softer and less firm than it had been.

"It is simply an infatuation that you feel," Katniss insisted softly. While she knew the sincerity of her feelings for him, she could not consider for a moment he felt the same, even if he did spout those very words. Why would he? "We both know that there is nothing that can come of this - why do you continue to insist otherwise?"

"Because I love you, Katniss, and nothing you can say will change that," Peeta implored. "If we want something enough, we will make it happen-"

"Not something like this!" Katnisd interjected. "If not only society, but the Duchess would never allow such a thing. She has made it perfectly clear to me that I am useless as a maid, let alone as anything more. It would not matter if I were as rich as Her Majesty herself, your mother would not accept me."

"My mother is not the Duke," Peeta retorted. "She does not make all the decisions in my life. Knowing my father loved another, yet was forced to marry-"

"The Duke?" Katniss interrupted him. She wondered when, along the way, she found herself ignoring the advice provided to her by her mother, and not think twice about interrupting someone of a superior class.

Peeta leaned against the wall, bringing one leg up and resting the flat of his foot against the stonework, his hand tapping his raised knee.

"I discovered recently that my father was in love with another, but was forced to honour a marriage arrangement that had been made for him with my mother. You have seen them together, surely. You must be aware it is loveless, empty, nothing but for show. I do not want that."

"I do not doubt that, Peeta, for it is surely what you deserve," Katniss sighed. "One day, your wife will be the most wonderful person you have ever met-"

"She is," Peeta snapped, staring at her intently.

"But it will not be me," she finished firmly. She moved towards the box, bending to retrieve it, and wiping the hay dust from the surface with a hand that shook slightly. She held it out to him, lips firming as he stubbornly refused to take it. "Peeta, please take it. While it is the most lovely gift I have ever been given, I cannot accept it. And...and we should no longer continue our actions, our flirtations."

"What?!" Peeta pushed away from the wall, his hands grasping onto her upper arms. She could see the urgency, the shock, clouding his eyes. _How could he have not seen this coming?_

She raised her hand, pressing the box firmly to his chest. "I am sorry, Peeta. But I mean what I say. We both knew this day would come eventually. I just..."

"But I have barely returned from Cambridge! You have not even given us a chance!" His voice rose, though he did not lose it's sense of command.

"Society will not give us a chance," Katniss retorted. "I am only doing what it is I see fit, now, before either of us get hurt any more than we are."

"Hurt?" Peeta scoffed. "The only one of us hurting right now is me."

Katniss shook her head. "Then you are stupid if you believe that. Not being with you is going to hurt me as much as it will hurt you."

"Then why are you doing this?" His voice dropped, almost sounded broken.

"Because it is the right thing to do," Katniss said softly. "What we had was going to be wonderful while it could last. But we both knew it would end. Today is that day, Peeta. I am sor-"

Her words were cut off as he yanked her to him, covering his mouth with hers, his lips hard and firm. His arms slipped around her shoulders, drawing her body in until she was not sure that there was a centimeter of space between them. She felt the rapid pounding of his heart against her chest and, whether it was a good idea or not, allowed his tongue to sweep across her lips, into her mouth, tangling with hers. It was a bittersweet kiss, one of longing, of sadness, of need.

Of acceptance.

She pulled away, ashamed at the feeling of tears on her cheeks. Peeta swallowed heavily, the line of his throat straining against the collar of his jacket. Her hand still rested against his chest, the box tight in her grip.

She looked at him imploringly, and finally he reached for it, limply taking it from her grasp. Katniss took the oppprtunity to stumble backwards, giving her the space she needed.

"Thank you, Peeta," she said quietly.

"For what?" He croaked.

"For giving me something I never thought I would want to experience, even fleetingly. I shall never regret it." With a gentle nod of her head, she turned and walked away, ignoring the cracked sob that echoed behind her.

* * *

The heavy wooden door slammed open, the crack echoing down the hall. His feet moved with purpose against the parquetry, across the thick woven rug that covered the library floor in shades of cream, burgundy and green. He reached almost blindly for the crystal decanter that sat on the wooden sideboard that was older than he could comprehend, a hand that alternated between steady and shaking pouring a generous swallow of amber liquid into the decanters matching tumbler.

Peeta lifted the glass to his lips, throwing the drink back in one swallow. It burned on its way down his throat, but it did not stop him filling the glass again and repeating the process.

She had ended it.

He took another step forward, resting his head against the cool glass of the window. He could not understand where he had gone wrong; a simple gift that had ended a dream that had barely begun.

_Did she feel so little for him that she was able to discard them so easily?_

He had not anticipated her reaction, had not considered that she would be so taken aback by something he did not believe was of such importance. It was not as though he was giving her diamonds, something ostentatious that would seem out of place on her. But he had misjudged, had underestimated her and overestimated himself.

He had ruined it.

"Is there a problem here?" Peeta turned slowly at the deep voice, saw his father's imposing form in the doorway. He was still dressed in the formal attire he had worn for their lunch, when they had dined on Sae's plentiful Christmas spread. The Duke's eyes were tired, and despite his impeccable posture, his body echoed the fatigue.

"No, Your Grace. My apologies for disturbing you," Peeta apologised formally, his shoulders straightening automatically. He gently laid the empty glass on the sideboard, clasping his hands behind his back.

"You did not disturb me, Peeta, but I could not help but hear your racket. And if I could, so could the Duchess, and we both know we would prefer not to disturb her. I would suggest next time you elect to slam about, you choose a library on the other side of the house." The Duke stepped into the room, moving beside Peeta and filling a tumbler of his own. He sipped it slowly, studying Peeta over the rim of his glass, before sighing.

"This is about that maid, is it not?" The Duke started without preamble. Peeta could feel his heart leap and his jaw clench, but managed to keep his expression as impassive as he could.

"I am unsure as to what you are referring to."

Peeta's father chuckled, a low sound that was rusty, as though it was something that did not get used often.

In all reality, it did not.

"Peeta, you may be adept at speaking words, however untrue, to make them believable, but you have never been able to hide yourself from me. I was fully aware there was more to your letter exchanges when we spoke last, but let it go for it seemed to bring a smile to your face, something that I had missed. But there are only certain matters that cause a man to drink such as you are, and as you do not have the worries of the Estate to contend with, I can only assume." Averting his gaze, and refilling his glass, he stood to attention, looking out of the window. "I know I have not been as attentive as you may have liked, and for most matters you have Abernathy to speak with. But if you wish, I am here to listen."

Peeta studied the older man, wondering why, after all this time, his father was taking a sudden interest in his life. He was correct - Haymitch was the man he went to, for the good, the bad and the inbetween. But was he smart to look a gift horse in the mouth when given?

He let out a heavy sigh, lowering himself to one of the overstuffed chairs. "It is not something of any more concern. Our liaison is over."

"Liaison, Peeta? Is that all?"

"It...it was nothing more than a flirtation."

"You have not gotten her into trouble?" The Duke coughed nervously, and Peeta chuckled mirthlessly.

"That would be a miracle, for we did not become that familiar with each other. I respected Katniss far too much for that, and knew it was something she would not take lightly."

"But you wished to," The Duke ventured. Peeta paused, and his father sighed. "It is not a bad thing to admit to, Peeta. I am quite certain there are some bastard Devonshires running about the country from the desires of previous Duke's. But I cannot say that I am relieved this is not the case for you. I would prefer our generations reputation to be above reproach."

"I am not relieved," Peeta replied, without thinking twice. His father blinked in surprise. "I could think of nothing more desirable than to be a father to children borne of Katniss, perhaps only to be with her officially. But our social standing deems us not appropriate, and we must resign ourselves to being apart. Which is what she advised me in not so uncertain terms this evening."

The Duke coughed again. "I...ah...Peeta, you just advised me it was a simple flirtation."

Peeta's mouth turned up in a wry smile. "I lied?"

"It seems you did." The Duke poured another glass, but did not drink, only held it in his hand. "Peeta, I do not doubt you believe you have feelings for this girl, but to the extent you are saying? I doubt it. Your desire to bed her is more than likely clouding your judgement, your true feelings, making them seem deeper than-"

"No," Peeta interrupted him. "They are genuine." How he wished he could confront his father of his own ill-fated love; but he could not. He refused to betray Haymitch's confidence. The grumpy, surly man who he saw as his mentor meant too much to him to repeat his words for his own gain. "But it does not matter. She has put a stop to our actions. I shall return to Cambridge a single man, lest Mother get her wish."

At this, the Duke chuckled, sipping at the glass as he studied his young heir. "I would not worry of the Lady Annabelle, nor of your mother's intentions. I have made myself perfectly clear to her on that front that you will find your own wife in your own time. But," he continued as he saw Peeta's eyes light up, "They shall still have to meet with our approval. Your selection of wife is not to be taken lightly. She will have obligations to meet, and socially will need to be deemed acceptable." His voice lowered, and he moved his gaze back out to the moonlit grounds. "It is best you forget this young woman. It was fine for the first blush of love, or lust, or whatever you wish to call it. She is not one of us, Peeta. What you may think you wish for can never be."

The Duke placed his now empty glass back on the table, then turned for the library door.

"Good evening, Peeta. And I hope you realise this was for the best." He moved from the room, leaving Peeta to his thoughts.

He had never felt more alone in his life.

* * *

**A/N - Apologies on the wait for this chapter. It was written entirely on the roads of France ;)**

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